


Tied To You

by bossers



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Amputation, Autistic Junkrat, Drug Use, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, autocannibalism, gratuitous descriptions of gross stuff, plot OC, starting from the beginning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2018-10-02 05:33:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 39
Words: 83,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10210682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bossers/pseuds/bossers
Summary: “Focus Junkrat. I need you here.”Junkrat snapped to attention so hard it startled Roadhog. He faltered for a moment feeling uncomfortable with what felt like the first direct eye contact he’s had in years. A naïve thought given that Junkrat probably didn’t even know who he was talking to right now.---review by beta reader murphy: "at one point they start throwing garbage at each other its good trust me"





	1. Fire Meet Gasoline

Roadhog parked his motorcycle within view when he visited the huddled mess of shacks and remnant buildings that made up just one of the Outback’s many outposts. These places were where the average Junker remained, seeking safety in numbers even if it meant being continuously under the thumb of another in whatever engineered hierarchy grew there. Someone had to have enough guns to keep raiders away and in turn enough to own the town.

All eyes were on him as he heavily pulled himself from the seat of his vehicle. He was used to being watched. The ominous mask, huge tattoos, spiked armor were meant to catch everyone’s gaze. And tell them they better fuck off.

Placing his thumbs in his pants and hiking them up, Roadhog walked up the steps of the only store with anything worth a damn. The scrap dealer sat behind heavy iron bars set into the remains of a counter for whatever this place was before the omnium explosion razed it. She was at relative ease unlike the outpost residents when she saw Roadhog enter. But that may have been thanks to the handgun visibly jutting from the front of her pants.

“Gas,” he rasped. She leaned to look past him at his bike, eyeing the size of the tank and the red gas canister strapped to it. Before she could reply he pulled out a handful of coins that made up junker currency and deposited them on the table slowly. “Fill it.” This time he was louder, more threatening. He’d long learned how to eliminate bargaining from these transactions.

Turning and leaving while she counted out the coins, Roadhog looked across the way at the bar. Between these two buildings it was main street in this podunk town. He thumbed the coins in his pocket and went over to get a drink.

The moment the glass in hand reached his lips the ground trembled lightly and a baritone boom reached everyone’s ears. The roar of motorbikes and screaming men crept through the wooden walls as well. Bad news. Roadhog tugged his mask down from its place under his nose. In perfect time the moment his mask tucked under his chin again another even closer explosion went off. It rattled the windows almost enough to hide the heavy thump on the roof. If that didn’t get caught by everyone then the mad cackle did.

Already out the door, making a beeline for his bike, Roadhog cast a quick glance up and behind. The sun sat behind the twisted figure who leaned back so far, laughing, that Roadhog was certain he’d– the man slipped and fell off the roof, landing hard on his back inches from where Roadhog had been just a step before.

Thin, filthy, and blonde. He scrambled off his back like an animal beside Roadhog. Looking up at Roadhog, he froze, taking stock of the huge man’s intentions. Meanwhile Roadhog just shrugged away, turning back to his bike across the way. However the turn only let him watch as the hoard of dirtbike riding pursuers turned sharply onto the narrow road between the scrap dealer’s and the bar. Roadhog tensed as he could only watch them skid and slide into the unexpected obstacle that was his motorcycle.

Whatever damage the particular rider that had flipped off his bike in the collision with Roadhog’s heavy chopper it wasn’t nearly as bad as the hook that caught him in the side. Wrenching him from one side of the road to the other, Roadhog timed the man’s collision into his double barrel precisely. Gore splattered outward misting the hard earth. Behind him the mysterious junker giggled shrilly. The thwoomp of fired projectiles flew by and exploded one after the other on the rear of the gang who’d come to a halt seeing the friend rent open by a sudden new foe.

The noise was almost unbearably loud, but based on how the bomber sped forward in an uneven gallop, Roadhog knew this was far from his first rodeo. Well, he was in the thick of it now, might as well enjoy himself. These thoughts came as he calmly watched the nearest group of men ditch their rides to come at him.

The first one came at him with a thick pipe. Hog caught it midswing and laughed darkly as his massive fist wrapped around the man’s head, squeezing hard until his thumb popped the eye in its socket. The screaming sent shivers up his spine as adrenaline flooded him. His brief high was interrupted by a blast of pain in his back. The pipe had been a distraction. Of course, who tries to go hand to hand with a seven foot beast of a man.

Even so Roadhog just spun and backhanded the attacker into one of the poles holding up the bar awning. He grabbed the dropped gun from the ground and turned back, open firing on the rest of the group while soaking up a couple more rounds.

From the corner of his eye Roadhog saw the other junker flying through the air again, still whooping and screaming as he pumped out a barrage of grenades half hazardly at the mass of the group. The uncontrolled firing hit the surrounding buildings as well sending shrapnel flying and starting small fires.

The dry wood frames of the surrounding remnant buildings and scattered shacks erupted into flame quickly. Between the blood splattered on the ground, the erupting fire, and screams of men being blown or ripped apart it was like a second apocalypse had come. The two mad men were back to back briefly as the armed members of the town attempted to pay them back for the destruction they’d wrought.

“Hooley dooley,” heaved Junkrat. Hearing him, Roadhog spun to hit, but to his surprise the other man ducked quick enough. “Whoa! Watch it mate, we aint’s got a bone to pick!” But the way that grin peeled open, Roadhog heard that unspoken yet. He let it be considering they still had another mob to clear. Between the two of them it was a breeze. Roadhog, silently hooking and crushing people. Junkrat, scrabbling about firing endlessly and reveling in the blasts that started to cover them in soot and dirt. They fought with equal bloodlust and zeal, cracking skulls and rending flesh.

Eventually the fire and smoke grew so overwhelming that the still standing members of the mob retreated, hacking and coughing. Roadhog noticed he was having a hard time breathing too. After a deep breath of hogrodgen the constriction eased up and the pain where his bullets had bitten his flesh left too.

Junkrat turned and watched the giant’s wounds heal closed of their own accord, pushing out bullets as they went. “I ‘ll be stuffed that’s a hell of a huff ya took there! Any chance ya’d spot me a sniff?” Roadhog turned his head slightly and growled, watching as Rat licked blood and dirt from his lips. The blood just spilled back over the same spot as the gash in his forehead continued to stream. Junkrat kept licking.

“No need to get shirty about it! I’ll just find a lil something meself.”

Lip curling under his mask, Roadhog jogged over to his bike, pulling it up gingerly. Junkrat limped past him eagerly into the burning scrap dealer’s place. Meanwhile examing the damage, Hog found that the bike was still viable but the fork was bent where the other bike had hit it. And if that was bent then the seal was broken and the slider might be cracked. A serious problem in the near future. Checking the gas he found it hadn’t yet been filled and cursed to himself.

“Ah banged ‘er up did they?”, came that same grating voice from the flaming entryway of the dealer’s. A piece of roof caved deeper in, but Junkrat didn’t flinch. He was even more hunched, pack filled and overloaded with various objects clipped to the exterior. And in his hand was one red gas canister that by the slight lean of his body, was full. Roadhog drew his gun, but Junkrat was just as quick on the draw. At a standstill, Junkrat filled any tense silence with immediate jabbering. “You’re a real right killer aren’t ya? A right proper bushman if there were any bush left in this part o’ Oz. Count me impressed.”

Roadhog snarled and tensed, irritated by the casual banter this wirey piece of nothing kept spouting. He could probably take one of the blasts from that grenade launcher honestly and weighed just firing anyways.

“Give me a ride outta here and I’ll fix yer bike. Whatta ya say? I’m a tinker if I do say so,” he wiggled his peg leg and launcher, “And it ain’t like there’s another servo for close enough for ya to fill up,” Junkrat adjusted and held the canister like a baby in one arm over his chest. The way that smile cracked over jagged teeth, Roadhog knew that he’d been played. This kid hadn’t scrapped his way through the Outback on luck alone.

Lowering his weapon, Roadhog relented. Without a word he saddled up on the chopper. “Good man!” cheered Junkrat, who breathed in too much smoke and started hacking while swinging his peg leg over the side behind Roadhog. He reached back and grabbed a bungee cord off his pack, strapping the canister onto the back of the motorcycle. Without checking if his passenger was ready, Roadhog started up and took off. The smoke was overwhelming his gas mask and irritating his lungs.

The ride felt different thanks to the bent fork and took his focus to correct. Despite that he could still feel the weight of the other junker’s launcher against his side. But not once in the less than smooth ride did a hand touch him. Junkrat clung to the seat of the ride. Knuckles going white with the strain and body tense. This was his first time and while convenient right now, it wasn’t built for three. He counted Roadhog as two people since he basically was the size of two people, heck maybe two and a half. He didn’t hear himself saying all this out loud and all Roadhog heard was indistinct chatter being whisked away by the wind.

Once they were out of sight of the burning town, Roadhog pulled over. He put the kickstand in place while Junkrat stiffly got off. Hook in hand, he was on the defensive from the get go. Rat wasn’t much different, one hand on his launcher and one with the canister. Trust was something that got your throat slit.

“Let’s take it easy ya yobbo! Deal’s a deal.” He set the canister down by the gas tank and side stepped toward the bent fork, looking at the fluid dripping down from the seals to the front tire. His mouth ran describing the problem even though they had both been over it. “With the seals like that you’ll get a good few clicks but its bad, bad, bad–“ he twitched and laughed, dropping his bag to the ground like he’d found a treat. It made Roadhog uneasy how erratic Junkrat reacted and while he was wary, he didn’t act like Roadhog was the most terrifying man he’d ever seen, which was the norm.

When those thin spindly hands started digging madly into the pack Roadhog almost fired on him. But without looking up Junkrat started talking again, “You know I was thinkin bout it just the other night it’s rough being chased up and down Oz all the time and seein you clear all them misfits– well I remembered something!” Junkrat looked up like it was a miracle, amber eyes focusing on the silent and still Roadhog while his hands wiped the excess fluid off the fork and shook a small unmarked bottle. “I was lookin to hire a bodyguard! It’d be a good deal, 50–50 of what we got and even my treasure! Sounds good enough to give it a burl don’t it?”

Still unresponsive, Roadhog listened carefully and watched how efficiently his bike was being repaired. He oversaw how steadily those hands hammered the fork out. Yet the rest of the man twitched and spasmed like staying still was insufferable. And how he wouldn’t shut up. Even now his lips were flapping about what he was doing.

But, he mentioned treasure. Like what had been rumored about? That someone found something deep in the ravaged omnium. Roadhog looked hard at the man before him. He’d seen for himself how brutal this now beanstalk was in a fight. Plus the obvious mind for mechanics. And that gang of bikers. The prize to chase down this mad man had to be big. Maybe just maybe this was real.

Thoughts of a past he had buried filtered in, but he wouldn’t let them form. Either way he could take this and confirm if the rumors matched up to this guy’s description. If they didn’t well, he’d leave or just kill him. Which ever offered itself.

“I’ll do it,” he finally answered. Junkrat looked up with a confused look.

“Huh? What’ll you do?”

“Be your bodyguard.” Roadhog clenched the fist around his hook to work out that irritation. How addled was this kid anyways?

A look of dawning insight spread on Junkrat’s face and he jumped up nodding vigorously. “That’s ace! I’ve been needing a bodyguard mate!” Forgetting he’d been the one to bring it up, he prattled on, “How’s 50–50 sound?”

Roadhog just grunted and set his weapons away proper. Junkrat took this as an affirmative and stood up, wiping the oil from his hands on his nasty cut offs. “Junkrat’s my handle.” He stuck out his hand for a shake.

Staying right where he was he replied, “Roadhog.” When Rat saw that he wasn;t going to get his shake he just dropped back into work. Roadhog took this opportunity to grab the canister and fill up the bike. He idled by and watched Junkrat work. No one else had ever worked on his bike before, but the scrawny junker mixed up a glue that held the seals, something Roadhog couldn’t do himself.

“That oughta do it for a while! But yer gonna need a ridgey–didge replacement. Only so long this spit ‘n shine will hold up. We could lob into a boneyard or maybe another outpost get the right piece if we’re tinny, but otherwise the right scrap could do it,” Junkrat prattled. He was stowing his tools messily back into the bag, revealing the tops of more gadgets and pipe bombs. “Definitely gotta add a side car to this here hog. I can’t ride bitch seat to ya if I’m yer boss now.”

That made Roadhog’s skin itch and blood boil. He crossed the short distance between them in a flash, hand wrapping around that skinny neck before Junkrat could grab the launcher. He relished in finally seeing that face express the fear it should have been this whole time. “No one’s my boss,” he said slow and deep, fingers tensing around the fragile throat.

The wide eyed terror of being suddenly lifted by the throat was short lived. The corner of Junkrat’s mouth twitched and he probably laughed though the sound didn’t come out. Wriggling and tugging himself up just a touch by grabbing onto the thick fingers under his jaw to do a strained pull up. “P–partners, ‘s what I meant to say!” He let himself drop back into the grip, hand returning to the same spot it had been before. Roadhog contemplated continuing to squeeze until those big eyes popped, but he saw what Junkrat was showing him from beneath his own thick arm. A short string in wrapped around one finger that led suspiciously into the straps of his vest like bandolier of grenades. He got it. This mongrel was really prepared for anything.

Roadhog set Junkrat back down on his feet, hand lingering on that neck a touch longer for emphasis. Once it fully retreated Junkrat let his own hand drop. Rubbing his bruised throat and coughing to try and relieve the strained feeling within, he eked out “By the way mate if ya try and get me with me back turned just know these are set to go off when I bite it too.” Roadhog just stared at that irritating grin and grunted.

With that Junkrat strapped his oversized pack onto his warped frame and hopped on behind Roadhog again, still giving the man enough berth to avoid even the lightest graze. Hog appreciated this himself and was glad for the huge saddlebags on the back of the bike that allowed this. The billowing smoke that rose from the still burning outpost slowly went out of sight as they rode on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two guys- sitting on a motorcycle- five feet apart cuz they're not gay!
> 
> Hello!! This is my first publicly posted fanfiction! I look forward to posting a lot more cuz I've become way too invested in Overwatch.
> 
> Find me here for more Roadrat rants: https://twitter.com/fattusrattus
> 
> A big thank you to my beta reader: https://twitter.com/BILLIONSBRO


	2. Saved

Junkrat spent the ride talking to himself about the scenery, the fight, how itchy he was and how bored. Most of it was carried away in the wind, but snippets would reach Roadhog when the stream of yabber would escalate with certain things Junkrat was really passionate about. He didn’t think he’d ever heard someone who used more slang than this kid. It was hard to tell under all the filth and natural aging effect of the harsh Outback sun just how old Junkrat was, but Roadhog guessed based on his speech he hadn’t been grown before the cataclysm that had blasted their home. No one from the days of the crisis had talked like that.

They came up on an old landfill around which more than a few junkers had taken to calling home. Though at a distance. It had continued in its purpose and more so. The smell of rotten flesh wafted over when Roadhog pulled up to it.

“Hooley dooley that reeks!” Junkrat yelled holding his nose while trying to stretch his stiff leg and a half. “That ain’t jackrabbit comin’ off that, mate. Only one meat blokes won’t eat in Oz.” Roadhog caught his drift. Somewhere in there were corpses. But at least that meant that the village was managing to get enough to eat without getting that desperate.

Roadhog started up camp just far enough from the landfill to avoid the wind catching a stray spark to it. Using some quick picking from the edge of the heap he started a fire. The smoke overwhelmed the scent of rot. But while he was settling down for the night, Junkrat acted like the day had just begun. Digging out various items from the pack and strewing the unneeded stuff about around him, fairly from Roadhog’s fire, Junkrat started putting random objects together, tinkering away. He could feel the larger man’s eyes on him even through that weird mask.

There was no way he was going to just sleep right out the gate with this guy. He may as well get to work on that sidecar and on replacing the grenade stock. While he had blown it off like nothing, the memory of that fat rough hand threatening to crush his windpipe was fresh in mind. Muttering to himself about his aching throat, Rat was the quietest he’d been all day. Not that he noticed, but he knew that if his hands were working he felt at peace instead of buzzing in his flesh. Or at least as peaceful as one could feel just a ways from a beast of man like his new partner.

He was so damn huge, no wonder he’d turned his back on Junkrat at first in that street. Willingly showing your back to another junker was like saying ‘you’re nothing’. Junkrat couldn’t imagine being so burly that he could afford to look away from an armed other. Roadhog didn’t sleep for a long while, but when Junkrat left to go dig through the dump, leaving a heavily trapped pack of goods behind, he let himself slip away.

By the time morning came the sidecar had been built and Junkrat was in the process of attaching it. Roadhog went about having a dingo’s breakfast while the setup was finished. Looking it over it was a fine job considering how fast it’d been made. He’d say it was impressive considering it was made of literal trash, but what wasn’t out here. It was all they had. Just scraps from another lifetime.

It was obvious Junkrat hadn’t slept, but he still jittered about like he hadn’t skipped it. “What ya think? It’s a beaut ain’t it?” Roadhog stood silent. “Ya I think so too! Gotta find some paint for it and all those scratches the chassis took. That and the fork and she’ll be just mickey!” He clapped his hands together excitedly, still flashing those jagged yellow teeth. “But finding a fork’s gonna be rough ‘s not like we have a lot of unbroken parts layin’ round these parts.” He stepped around to pack up his things still making conversation with himself.

Roadhog got a much better look at the top of Rat’s head now, the bald parts between the main tufts of hair had too smooth skin indicative of burns creeping up the scalp. His eyes fell to the peg leg. An omnic joint that disappeared up under frayed cut off shorts. Losing a limb in the wastes usually meant clinging to towns to rely on others for what your missing parts wouldn’t let you do. It meant being an easy target if you left. But the kid had whipped up a fix. Just like how he’d found a fix to his own battered lungs.

“I know where to find a fork.”

Junkrat looked up from his lollygagging at the first sentence from his new partner. While he blinked away the shock of it, Roadhog plopped onto the bike and started it up, letting Junkrat scramble to hop in to the new sidecar before he rode away.

As they rode Junkrat rested up to compensate for his sleepless night. He didn’t nap but he tried to relax. Using a rag he wiped off the remaining crusted blood from his face and scabby gash. Hiking up the pant hem on his good leg, he also cleaned out where a bullet graze had cleft him. The blood and dirt on his calves had already been scraped off last night when he’d tromped through the landfill, but he gave the peg leg an extra going over to make it shine.

Looking up at Roadhog when he was done, his eyes went back to where he had remembered seeing those wounds on him close up. No scars. Then he looked at the canisters of what he had huffed that hung on his belt. It made his hands jumpy to snatch one. But as he kept looking he noticed that there were still scars all over. Whatever that stuff was wasn’t perfect he guessed.

“What’s that stuff in yer huff made of?” Silence. “Where we headed anyways?” Nothing. “How’d ya get so damn big?” The lack of response didn’t bother him. He was used to being ignored, and even more used to being alone, so Junkrat went about making conversation with himself for the rest of the ride.

When they finally arrived the scrawny junker finally realized how Roadhog was so certain he could just find a replacement for the fork. In the distance was the sound of pierced mufflers on revving choppers and a short ways away was a skull mounted on various ruined engine parts. A warning sign to turn back before getting into gang territory. Specifically the territory of the Head Hunters. Junkrat side eyed Roadhog and the motorcycle, suspicious of if he was about to be taken in and drawn and quartered.

But Roadhog parked the bike in the shade of one of many huge pieces of shrapnel that had scattered across the Outback after the explosion like symbols of how wounded this land was. Squatting by his saddlebags, he shoved his mask up just high enough to get a drink from the canteen stored within. Junkrat watched interest. When he’d first seen the mask he thought it was a typical junker combination of practical and intimidating, as was all their garb. But then when it hadn’t come off for sleep he thought Hog might be deformed in some way. But that sliver of face was relatively unmarred. The end of a ropey scar on one side and a curious underbite of jutting lower canines, all surrounded by roughly trimmed and sparse facial hair.

The mask was slipped back down and Junkrat looked away to the horizon. “Mate are you really suggesting we raid these yobbos?” The question came off like it was a bad idea but he looked hungry for a fight. Roadhog grunted an affirmative. “Why do I got the feeling you was mates with the Hunties?” The slight turn toward his motorcycle was all Junkrat needed. “Right well if you think we gotta fair go!”

He started to gear up but Roadhog stopped him. “Not yet.” With that the big man took a seat against the metal, starting to open a ration to eat. The sight made Junkrat’s stomach rumble. He had no packed food since he’d been on the run for so long there hadn’t been even a moment to spend the last of his tokens. Time to catch some lizards.

Much later Roadhog finally stood up. The sun’s position indicated that it was almost noon. The heat had become almost unbearable. The endless dry earth radiated it outward making the horizon shimmer like a mirage. Junkrat squinted up with a mouthful of raw lizard. Roadhog jerked his head toward the bike. That was all the signal Rat needed to jam the rest of the lizard in his mouth, laughing eagerly as he slung the launcher off his back and hopped into the sidecar.

Roadhog almost cracked a smile under his mask too. The anticipation of a fight still got the blood pumping even for someone as battle hardened as himself. They road in under the cover of the wafting heat, their identity indiscernible until they were practically at the gates of the repurposed pump station.

Without any prompting Junkrat stood up in his seat and blasted the gate open for them. Roadhog blew through the dust cloud and pulled the bike up just inside. It skidded sideways, leading him as the frontline, obscuring Junkrat in the sidecar. The spotter was desperately ringing the alarm, summoning armed men from within the building. They’d all been eager to escape the incredible midday heat and had bottlenecked themselves all leaving the same double doors of the station’s added building. Junkrat took advantage of that and rained grenades over them, laughing giddily. “Looks like everything’s coming up explodey!”

While men who were hit screamed and bled on the ground, the rest scattered trying to get away. Their lost focus on their targets gave Roadhog time to get into range. He hooked the first man he saw and rammed his brass knuckled fist into the poor sod’s face. Blood splattered across his mask as whatever nose this guy had went from an outtie to an innie. The gore and subsequent scream sent an electric thrill through him.

The duo fought apart, ensuring not to get in each other’s way. But even without cooperating they each left a bloodbath in their respective wakes. The number of standing men thinned and time pressed on. Junkrat’s initial spree of success ended. The heat, the lack of sleep, the dehydration; he was exhausted and more importantly this fight had gone to being to his advantage to not. The launcher was inaccurate and the last men standing were the best of the group.

He nailed one and giggled, “Now we’re twinsies!” mocking the missing leg on his victim. While watching the man scream and clutch at his stump, Junkrat finished him off with one more blast. But the moment the thwoomp of his launcher sounded, he was donkey kicked to the ground making an audible crack of skull against pavement. He hissed and clutched his head which bloomed with pain to the time of his pulse.  
A kick to the ribs doubled Junkrat over, taking his breath with it. He wheezed desperately and tried to reach his lost launcher. “There ain’t anything left in that,” came a gravelly voice above the heavy boot that brought itself down on his wrist. “Yer gonna pay for this you son of a bitch. I’m gonna bleed you out and eat ya for lunch.” The Head Hunter reached down and pulled Junkrat up the hair without releasing the wrist from under his boot heel.

Struggling against the grip, Junkrat’s mouth moved, but no words came. He croaked desperately as the press of a blade to his throat came. The man sawed away from his windpipe, slicing through the skin slowly. This was it, the end. Junkrat’s mind screamed at him to do something, anything. Hot blood slid down to his chest, but before the man could bring the knife back the other way, he was hooked.

He was suddenly free and rushed to press a hand to his throat. Looking up just in time, Junkrat watched his attacker get his head blown off. It was hard to process. He still couldn’t catch his breath and was struggling to rise using just one hand while his head spun with fear and pain. Roadhog stood surrounded by the dead and dying, mask shining with blood in the bright sun. Something about that stoic mask and unflinching form made it click for him.

He had been saved. When was the last time someone had protected him? Probably when he was just an anklebiter. It’s almost like he hadn’t really known what a bodyguard was. It had just been a notion, but now Junkrat was trembling with relief that he was still alive.

Roadhog came up to him while he tried to collect himself and get a solid press on the wound to get it to stop bleeding. That gigantic hand came up and wrapped itself around his throat again, but this time it was benevolent. Junkrat hadn’t seen when he swiped a finger into the jar in his vest pocket, but he could feel something smear into his wound. It hurt because Roadhog ground his fat finger in hard. When it was done Roadhog pulled away and Junkrat could feel the gushing stop. His panic subsided without the eminent threat of bleeding out.

“Oi, thanks mate.” He giggled a little too, out of habit. No response. Roadhog walked toward the double doors where the battle had begun, leaving Junkrat to carefully pick up his launcher and follow.

He caught up slowly, taking his time to let the adrenaline die down. Inside the addition to the pump station was a row of bikes, gleaming with fresh polish. Whistling appreciatively, Junkrat sauntered over to the nearest one. “No bodgy fork for you then.” He threw himself into examining all viable donors and finding the best choice, eager to work and forget the recent trauma.

Roadhog looked at the cut on that neck. He’d slathered it over with a coagulant but it needed to get disinfected later. He reviewed the memory of seeing the thin body bending back. And those wide scared eyes. He’d hesitated and watched the knife draw blood before acting. It had been a long time since he’d protected someone, but when he did finally move the action felt familiar. How many times had he done that in A.L.F. for his team? He couldn’t afford to hesitate next time if he wanted that treasure.

The floor was scattered with discarded bike parts that Junkrat had tossed behind him. Beside him was a pile he decided were worthwhile. Talking it out with himself, he filled the silence while Roadhog worked tuned up his bike. Though he’d let the other junker do the fork replacement he took over the rest. With a final grunt, Roadhog sat up, wiping his forehead. There were beds in here so he took the one in the corner. He didn’t fall asleep right away. Thoughts of where things would go from here weighed on his mind. He wanted to try and confirm Junkrat’s identity, but a bigger outpost that might have that kind of info was dangerous if it was true.

When the noisy breathing of his partner finally went slow and even like how it did last night, Junkrat let himself prepare for a rest. He grabbed the pillow and blanket off one bed and took it back with him to the farthest opposite corner of the garage. Even if he’d been saved today, Junkrat didn’t know this guy from Adam. When he deemed that the corner was sufficiently protected with mines, Junkrat curled up under a workbench. The pavement was cold and hard, but he’d slept in worse places. And the rest of the room wasn’t too chilly thanks to the big ramshackle oven the Head Hunters had installed in here.


	3. Gotta Leave Fast

Junkrat’s sleep was short lived as they had all been since he’d escaped the bowels of the omnium. He’d become accustomed to sleeping in 3 hour bursts. Looking over, Roadhog was still snoring away, so he gathered up his booby traps and packed them away. His muscles burned fiercely, crying out for more rest. But it didn’t hurt nearly as bad as his throat. The wound was puffy and angry and without an adrenaline dump it would not let itself be ignored. He touched it gingerly, feeling the dry, crusty covering of whatever Roadhog had placed on it. His hand begged to pick at it, but even he wasn’t fool enough to tempt the wound to start bleeding again.

After eating as many rations from the saddlebags of the Hunter’s bikes as his concave gut would allow and guzzling water, Junkrat felt alert. He puttered around going through everything in his half of the room. Bits and bobs got stuffed into his pockets for future contraptions. Several of these got put in his mouth too just to see what they felt like.

By the time Roadhog got up another project had been finished. His bike was repainted; the chassis and sidecar were now a bright yellow. The smaller scrapes elsewhere touched over with black. “What did you do to her?” he rumbled. That froze Junkrat in his place by the sidecar.

“Oh, uh, I, uh, spruced her up mate?” he rose up and twiddled his thumbs like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He was ready to run for it. At the time he hadn’t really thought about it, but when the job was done it occurred to Rat that maybe he shouldn’t have done this without asking. He’d seen what happened to the last bloke who’d messed with this chopper.

Roadhog advanced, which made Junkrat dive for his launcher. With the bike still between them he kept it trained on Roadhog who was just far enough away that he could fire safely. Giggling nervously, he tried to make amends, “Look mate I know I came a gutser on this one. I just get off task sometimes ya know? Give a bloke a fair go to fix a blue.”

He looked between Junkrat and the bike. There was a huge kind of creepy smiley face painted on the sidecar, which matched the ones he’d seen on the pipe bombs in that big pack. They stood in heavy silence for what felt like minutes to Junkrat.

“I like it.” With that he turned away, leaving Junkrat to deflate. There was that broad, fearless back again. He almost wanted to fire anyways, just to make a point that he was dangerous. That Roadhog should be afraid too. But that was one of the dumbest ideas he’d had in a long time.

They left a couple hours after, throwing open the doors to the ungodly stench of the dead left out in the sun to cook. Roadhog carefully lifted his bike over the gory mess, impressing Junkrat to no end. “How in the hell’d you even get so big out here in the GAFA? Even if you get some god gifted height like meself never enough to fill up the width!” He playfully compared himself to Roadhog, showing how thin he could get when he sucked in his gut.

As usual there was no answer, but at this point Junkrat was counting on that. He didn’t really want to make nice chatter with Roadhog right now. But he also couldn’t bear silence. And if he talked happy, he’d get happy.

It worked too, by the time they were at the next outpost Junkrat didn’t even remember what he’d had his grundies in a twist about. This place was big, real big for Junkertown. It could even be called the Junker capital. The place sat in the carcass of a military base. Even before the omnium explosion this place had been abandoned and used as a home to squatters and other outback wanderers. The huge spheres that peppered the place had held strong, offering significant protection from the elements, aided by enormous stories high shards of metal from the omnium that were lodged in and around the base.

“Uh, why we at the scrote city, mate? I thought I told ya I’m a wanted man.”

Roadhog looked over and tilted his head up, pointing at his neck at about the spot where Junkrat’s festering wound was.

“I appreciate the concern, but I ain’t got tokens and I stand out like dog’s balls, even in a town with as many balls as this!” He cackled at his own wit, slapping his knee only to recoil in pain and with bruised fingers.

When Junkrat finally bothered to look to Roadhog for an answer, all the big man did was tap his with his forefinger thoughtfully. While nursing his injured fingers, Rat tilted his head in confusion. Roadhog leaned back on the bike, reaching into a saddlebag, and pulled out some cloth. He shook it out and measured a piece, ripping it off with his bare hands. He threw it on Junkrat’s head. The larger piece he looked at quizzically.

“I dunno if this is gonna work,” Junkrat muttered while tying the rag over his head, hiding his blond hair. When that was done, Roadhog pulled out an big ancient sponge he used to clean the bike. He handed it and the rest of the cloth sheet to Junkrat.

For whatever reason Junkrat took the sponge and sniffed it, only to find that it did in fact stink. Rubbing his nose to try and grind out the smell, he said, “I don’t follow ya this time.”

Roadhog pointed at Junkrat’s peg leg. Junkrat looked at it then back at him. With a grumble, Roadhog explained, “Wrap it up. And put the sponge where your calf should be.”

Junkrat mentally counted the number of words said to him. Twelve. If his memory were better he could have started keeping track of the number of all the words this drongo had said to him. As he mused, he did as instructed, forming the shape of a leg where there was none. The result made it look like he was just footless and mangled rather than amputated to the knee.

“More clever than you look,” he commented, sneering up at the where Roadhog’s eyes ought to be. In response, a huge hand gripped him by the head roughly, applying just enough pressure to convey the message. Junkrat’s heart jumped to his throat, but the grip lasted just a moment. He sat in relative silence as they went the rest of the way into town.

When they arrived, Roadhog parked the bike in the pseudo parking lot. It was supervised by an attendant of sorts. A convenience to encourage trade. But even with someone to watch over this place, Roadhog still pointed at the mines in Junkrat’s pack and at the ground around the bike. A little extra protection never hurt anyone. The silent request made Junkrat beam. It was just a tiny acknowledgment, but it was something!

Before he could even rise up from his task, Roadhog dumped a few coins in his hand and pointed at his neck again. “I got it, I got it, ya yobbo!” The words left his mouth thoughtlessly and he stiffened in preparation of retaliation. But none came, Roadhog just growled and left.

It was hard to read Roadhog with that mask on, and Junkrat was already shit at interacting with people period. But even with those terrifying moments of being shown just how weak he was, he also knew that it could have been so much worse. And so far the bad had been balanced out by the good. The terror of that blade pressed to his neck came back easier than he would have liked, but it was evidence that maybe he hadn’t made a bad choice asking Roadhog to partner up.

“Oh, right,” he said to himself, touching the edge of tender, inflamed flesh on his neck. “New record there for forgetting what I’m doing! Lot’s of new stuff lately!” He laughed and pulled himself up, limping slower than usual into town to find the doctor’s shop. Didn’t want his little leg wrap to slip off now and get caught.

Roadhog on the other hand was headed to the pub. At least that hadn’t changed about the world. Nothing like a room full of loosened lips and gossip to give him the information he wanted.

He felt eyes on him as he entered, but it didn’t last long. At the bar, the man behind it listed off the limited selection. The fat on him told Roadhog that business was good. He preferred to see people like this, looking closer to healthy than what he was used to seeing. The Outback was made up of Junkrats. Trimmed to the bone whether they wanted to be or not.

After ordering, he went in for it. “Heard a rumor someone made it out of the omnium. Treasure or something.”

“Ah that’s just a furphy that’s been goin’ around. Nothing to that.” The bartender hardly even looked up, just passed Roadhog his pint and went back to business.

But the comment made a group of guys erupt with discontent. “That’s a bloody lie! That treasure’s real and it’s out there! My mate saw the guy comin’ from the omnium with something. If he’d a known then he’d shot ‘im dead!”

“Yea, maybe a couple months back Burrows got blown to hell when someone tried to snag the fella. People’s seen him!”

The pub went back and forth on the subject, trading tales that just grew more and more wild and fantastical. Specifically about the nature of the treasure. Some claimed it was gold, some a weapon, others a piece of omnic tech. However the consistent narrative of a man blowing shit to hell when pursued fit Junkrat. It was honestly all Roadhog needed as evidence, but it was absolutely confirmed when they all agreed that they didn’t know how a guy with a peg leg and no ride had gotten away for so long.

Roadhog savored his drink, thinking deeply on his situation. He wanted out of this hell hole. Out of the Outback. If people could leave they would have ages ago. But they’d been all but exiled. While no fence could encase the enormous desert, Junkers had no access to modern money, to passports and IDs, all the things that you needed to set foot into the rest of Australia.

In order to get out you had to be worth something to a suit. Have something to trade, because the coins they passed about out here weren’t worth a damn thing outside Junkertown. And whatever this treasure was, it could be the ticket he was looking for.

Junkrat lay back on the cold metal table in the doctoring shop, exposing his neck to the woman hovering over him. Stretching it like that made it throb and then she went and pushed his jaw even farther, making him yelp. “Christ! Don’t do that it hurts like hell as it is!”

“I bet it does, that’s a deep slice.” She scratched at the crusted goop that filled it and made Junkrat hiss with pain. “Lucky you had this stuff though. I reckon you would bled yourself into a stupor. Where’d you scavenge it?”

“What even is it, doc?”

“You don’t know? Do you just go about slathering shit on your booboos without checking?”

“No! I just didn’t put it on! Me, uh,” his mind ground to halt deciding what to call Roadhog. “p–partner? He was the one who had this stuff.”

“Whatever. Listen I’m gonna dissolve this and you’re gonna bleed again but don’t panic.” She pulled out a bottle of something and applied it to a rag, pressing it to the wound. Junkrat felt bubbling, then pain. She rubbed away the artificial coagulant and blood started to flow slowly.

“Now prepare yourself.” Junkrat looked at her with panic as she leaned closer in. “Just breathe” she said, starting to guide him through some deep breathing. On his third breath she squeezed around the wound. Thick pus surfaced as Junkrat screamed through gritted teeth. Another breath and she squeezed again to get the rest. Blood gushed from the wound like when it had been first cut, but the doctor chided that it was good to bleed it a little.

She walked away to wash her hands of what she’d squeezed out then returned with a needle and thread. Junkrat was jittery and exhausted. He could almost cry for joy when she finally handed him a pain pill. She took her time disinfecting wound, applying pressure to the wound while she gave the pill a little time to kick in. Then she carefully stitched the gash closed, talking him through it. Junkrat didn’t really hear her over his thrumming pulse and restrained cries of pain.  
He felt light headed when it was done and was more than glad to rest on the table a while. His neck was throbbing, but the pressure on the insides felt less than before. He looked over in a daze as Roadhog walked in slowly. The woman greeted him, but Junkrat couldn’t really understand what they were saying. He was too tired.

Junkrat blinked, Roadhog had his gun out. Another blink, the woman was on the floor. Next blink, Roadhog was filling his bag. He felt himself being lifted and wriggled against it.

“Quit it,” Roadhog told him firmly. “Gotta leave fast.” Thinking long and hard on that, Junkrat understood what had happened about half way to the motorcycle and started giggling to himself while being held under Roadhog’s arm like a sack of potatoes. The giggling continued all the way to the lot, drawing attention, more than Roadhog wanted.

However when he finally reached the bike, Roadhog realized his mistake. It was still booby trapped and Junkrat was high as a kite. He set Junkrat down carefully and tried to rouse him from his giggle fit. The pats on the face just made Junkrat laugh more and weakly slap at him.

“Focus,” he said, turning that sharp face toward him. Junkrat’s eyes looked down and away without recognition. “Focus,” he repeated to no avail. Growling with frustration, he stood up and took a close look at the trap, contemplating if he could disarm it himself. Stupid, stupid idea he concluded.

Looking back to Junkrat, who was weakly trying to stand up, Roadhog decided that even like this, that kid would do a better job than him and his clumsy hands. He squat down in front of Junkrat again and grabbed his face roughly.

“Focus Junkrat. I need you here.”

Junkrat snapped to attention so hard it startled Roadhog. He faltered for a moment feeling uncomfortable with what felt like the first direct eye contact he’s had in years. A naïve thought given that Junkrat probably didn’t even know who he was talking to right now.

“Junkrat.” The smaller man twitched. “Disarm the trap.” He pointed at the mine. Junkrat looked over slowly and nodded. His mouth moved like he was trying to reply, but all he did was smack his lips and crawl over to the bomb.

Roadhog watched his hands work slowly over the bomb. Junkrat’s eyes would fall away or slip closed but his hands would move without him seeing. He contemplated how wasted this incredible skill was out here in the wastes. When everything was disconnected Junkrat held the bomb tenderly in his arms, petting it like it was a small animal. Roadhog snorted and grabbed Rat under the arms, setting him in the sidecar before taking off as fast as he could.


	4. Restraint

Junkrat woke with a start. The stars above terrified him. He couldn’t remember anything after the doctor. He flung himself from the sidecar, tripping and falling when his leg tingled violently over being so roughly awakened.

“Fucking shit hell!” He found his body ached, especially his neck who hadn’t appreciated the tumble. Scrambling against the dirt to right himself, he put a hand to his bandolier ready to toss one at whoever had kidnapped him.

But all he found was Roadhog sitting by the fire, laughing. The noise didn’t sound like laughter at first, but he was certain it was laughter when he tried to stand and slipped roughly back to the ground with another stream of curses. The sound was so deep and rumbling.

Fear dissipated hearing the chuckle fade away. Junkrat took stock of himself, peg leg, check, real leg, check, grenades, check. No launcher though. Rolling in the dirt, he looked over at the sidecar he’d been in and saw his pack still in it. Dragging himself up using it to steady himself, Junkrat blinked at how perfectly fine everything was. He was safe.

Roadhog was cooking something while counting out bottles from his bag. Memories of what had happened filtered back in for Junkrat. Particularly Roadhog saying his name for the first time. Honestly he hadn’t heard that name on another’s lips for probably a year now, he had to leave all the places that knew him after the omnium dig.

Twisting his lips, he tried it out. “Roadhog?” The big man stopped and looked over. That made Junkrat grin. “How long I been out?”

“Hours.”

Well that was a relief, and he sighed heavily, drawing a curious glance from Roadhog. “Fuck me dead, my neck hurts,” Junkrat swore, cupping a hand to the gauze taped over the wound and toddling over to the fire. Before he could plop down, Roadhog gestured for him to come over. He hesitated, eyeing his partner suspiciously. Hog growled and gestured again.

Junkrat edged over and squatted at arm’s length from Roadhog. Scowling petulantly, he winced as Roadhog reached over and peeled off the gauze on his cut. A satisfied grunt and then a spray of disinfectant that made Junkrat cry out.

“Watch it! Give a mate warning ‘fore you put on that crap!” He went to touch the spot, but Roadhog caught his hand and forced it down. With the other hand, giant fingers carefully applied a fresh patch of gauze. He released Junkrat to tape it down, then backed off. Junkrat stretched his neck slowly then sat down a short ways away looking exceptionally contemplative.

“So we’s really are partners now then?’ He looked to the expressionless mask then back at his legs. Unwrapping his prosthetic from its disguise, he continued, “I guess if ye haven’t already killed me you’re not gonna.”

“Don’t test it,” Roadhog growled back, cracking his knuckles by forming a tight curled fist. This made Junkrat laugh madly until he strained his stitches and had to tone it down.

“Yer alright mate, done a real swell job at bodyguardin’ so far. But what’d that doc say that got ya so pissed?” Roadhog just shook his head and gestured at his bag full of medical supplies. “What the hell you take all that shit for anyways?’ he asked, squinting at the labels. “Plannin’ on openin’ a shop? Or we gonna get rotten?” He grinned at his own joke and started to move for a bottle of pills. Before he could, Roadhog shoved him back.

Righting himself quickly, Junkrat pointed at the pile and yelled, “What happened to fifty–fifty mate! That was the deal!” Roadhog sighed so hard you could hear the eye roll. “Don’t you sass me ya drongo! No one cheats Junkrat! I’ll blow you and your shitty ride to hell before taking even a token less on a deal-“ Roadhog turned to him and snarled threateningly. Junkrat didn’t back down, still riding the remnants of his high, he jumped up and ripped a grenade off his bandolier.

Roadhog stared up into that fierce angular face. He knew the eyes of a mad man, it reminded him of his own back in ALF’s heyday. It didn’t matter if the blast hit them both, Roadhog knew he’d do it just to prove his point.

“Gotta save it for the future.” He watched Junkrat blink and process that, then plop right back down.

“Oh,” he said softly, “makes sense, sorry mate. Guess I still ain’t used to this yet.” Roadhog nodded in agreement.

“Really kinda out in the open here. I’ll take first watch then. Slept enough already.” Nodding again, Roadhog quickly ate two thirds of the tubers he had cooking and left the rest on the spit before turning away to sleep.

But sleep didn’t come quickly. He lay there listening to Junkrat talk to the fire. He asked it why Roadhog wasn’t treating him like the whacka he was. That surprised him. He hadn’t expected Junkrat was self aware of just how annoying he was. They’d been together all of a couple of days and Roadhog had already been fighting gagging that kid.

If it’d been him a year or two ago he probably would have. But now he needed to bide his time. A chance at escape counted on it. Junkrat probably didn’t even remember offering up his treasure right now, but eventually he’d trust Roadhog enough to spill it. And then. He let himself envision a shack by the beach in the middle of nowhere. Maybe even back home in New Zealand. He hadn’t seen the ocean in so long, but the scent of it still permeated his fantasy.


	5. Accustomed

Days turned to weeks. In what seemed like no time they’d become accustomed to each other. Junkrat toed the limits of Roadhog’s patience, and in turn he learned how to handle Junkrat’s outbursts and obsessions. They were learning how to survive with a plus one.

It was almost too easy to take what they wanted when they needed it. Junkrat wreaking havoc with his bombs and Roadhog picking off people one by one. When they rode he’d slap Junkrat upside the head to get him to shut up for a minute, but it was always just a minute, maybe two if he was lucky. On the other hand the chatter helped his work immensely. If he couldn’t hear Junkrat going, something was wrong.

They’d be in the middle of a theft and sure enough, that ceaseless barrage of insults and whooping would fade out and that boy would be gone. Roadhog would search high and low, fending men off alone only to watch that skinny assed idiot come flying down into the fight with an armful of trinkets.

Then later when they were alone, Junkrat would examine his gains, tasting them for some unknown reason and cooing, “Ooh, shiny!” at each and every single one. If Roadhog was especially mad he’d take one or two and crush them into misshapen scrap with his bare hand, making Junkrat scream obscenities. Then they’d laugh.

Tonight, Roadhog finally asked. “What you collecting all this crap for anyways?”

Junkrat looked back in surprise, then grinned that awful, crooked smile. “It’s a secret!” he exclaimed, hands flying up childishly. He turned back to his tinkering, giggling to himself. Roadhog snorted and rolled over to sleep.

He was surprised to find dawn waking him, rather than the shrill “wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey” that usually roused him for his half of the night watch. Roadhog sat up quickly, scanning for his charge. It wasn’t hard seeing as Junkrat was still sitting over the same spot he’d been last night.

Rising to his feet, Junkrat looked back at him, dark circles under his eyes, but chipper as ever. “Roadie! You’re up! Perfect timing mate, I just put the finishing touches on it!”

Junkrat hopped up, swaying unsteadily at first, then righting himself. There was something huge at his feet and he gave a little grunt as a hefted it into his arms. Turning around slowly, Junkrat revealed the enormous gun in his arms. He was laughing and grinning like a shot fox.

“Ain’t she a beaut?” Roadhog looked over the double barrel. It had Junkrat’s signature yellow paint job, but spikes, the dangling chain, those touches were for him. “Go on,” Rat encouraged, “try her out!” That was all Roadhog needed to take the gift.

It was far too heavy for a gun and far too large. He imagined how fierce the recoil must be given the size of the barrels. This was a gun that only he could use. He clicked it open and was surprised to find no bullets, but scrap jammed inside. Looking back to Junkrat, he wondered if the kid had lost it.

Catching onto that prolonged stare, Junkrat chimed in, “Say hooroo to bullets and hello to scrap! When I saw you crush up my goodies before that gave me the idea, so I got more! Guns are more finicky than bombs in my opinion, all those little parts. And it all has to fit together without exploding all over the place and–“

Roadhog grunted to get him back on track. “Oh! What was I saying again?” The scrap gun was swung at his head in response. Junkrat ducked and snapped his fingers. “Right! Just shove some crushed garbage in and it’ll shoot it! Big spray, real violent– or at least, I hope!” He clapped his hands and bounced from foot to peg excitedly as the weapon was hefted and aimed into the distance. Roadhog pulled the trigger and and felt his arm thrust backward by the force of the shot. A first for him.

That dark chuckle sent Junkrat over the edge, jumping with delight as he watched another two shots fired one after the other. “Ooo, oo, almost forgot! And if you push here!” Junkrat rushed in, grabbing Roadhog’s huge middle finger and sliding it over slightly on the grip until it lay on top of a button. “That there activates the long range option! It’s no rifle, but the spray goes a good bit farther!”

He looked up at Roadhog, flashing his jagged teeth, eyes gleaming. It was the closest he’d ever willingly stood by Roadhog. Though his eyes were hidden behind his mask, Roadhog still got the feeling that Junkrat could see him, see his uncertainty at having has hand patted soothingly as Junkrat stepped back to let him fire. There was a strange fear that somehow this kid knew everything going on in his head.

Aiming at a cactus a short ways away, he heard Junkrat’s breath hitch behind him. The shot clipped the cactus, splattering a portion of it. This made the maker of this monstrous weapon jump for joy. Junkrat was positively howling. He ran to the cactus and pointed at the juicy smear of prickly pear. Roadhog watched in revulsion as he picked up a wet hunk, peppered with dirt, and slipped into his mouth.

For a moment everything was fine, but as Junkrat started choking, Roadhog contemplated just letting it happen. He jogged up and grabbed the kid from behind, pulling up and under his ribs in controlled squeezes. After the third time Junkrat hocked up a piece of scrap.

“Try chewing, you fucking idiot,” he growled, slapping Junkrat so hard across the back it made him wheeze. As he walked back to camp, he could hear the uneven lope chasing after him. A slap hit his shoulder playfully once that cackling maniac caught up.

“So what you think? Is she ace or what?” Junkrat’s eyes were locked on Roadhog, waiting for an answer despite how frequently he was flat out ignored. And yet he got what he wanted. Hog compliantly grunted and nodded, making Junkrat giggle and run off ahead. A little disgusted with himself for indulging the kid, Roadhog couldn’t help but wonder about Junkrat’s childhood. A grown ass man who could go from bouncing off the walls out of sheer excitement, who pouted and threw tantrums, but just as quick kill a man and lick the viscera from his face happily. The all–consuming question was if Junkrat remembered a time before the omnium meltdown. Had Junkrat ever known a family?

Roadhog had buried so much of his guilt over what A.L.F. had done, but being side by side with a product of his actions was raising these questions again. This is why he didn’t speak much. If he did it would just make it worse.

With daybreak come and gone, they packed up and made for the nearest watering hole. While they had agreed to a partnership, Junkrat was insistent on taking the leading role, making the plans, and picking where they went. Roadhog didn’t particularly care if Junkrat wanted to play at being boss. Today was the Junkrat appointed, weekly day off. And as such they were about to hit up the place Rat claimed had the best prickly pear beer in all the GAFA.

Even though Junkrat acted chummy enough, he still slept in his bandolier and always insisted on counting out every little piece of loot for himself. But with his new scrap gun as evidence, Roadhog decided that this was as golden an opportunity as ever. Their relationship was probably as good as it was gonna get. He’d get Junkrat wasted and ask about the treasure. The sooner he could stop babysitting the better.

Thinking on it, honestly the only time Junkrat would come within arms length was for shit like the scrap gun. The only things he couldn’t stay away from was tinkering and trouble. Sometimes when Junkrat would coming running over to see what Roadhog was doing to the bike and Roadhog would see the realization on his face that they were shoulder to shoulder. Solid instincts overall considering Roadhog’s intentions.

Junkrat stood up in the sidecar and pointed excitedly at the buildings they came up on. Roadhog contemplated hitting the brakes and seeing how far he’d fly. They pulled up, Junkrat started to lay down a trap, but Hog shook his head. “Don’t bother.”  
“Suppose you’re right mate! Who knows where the night will take us,” Junkrat rubbed his hands together in anticipation. That almost made Hog chuckle.

With his peg leg wrapped up, they sidled into the tiny pub. There were only two other guests and the bartender. She looked up at them, saw Roadhog and looked away. They sat at the largest booth for obvious reasons.

The moment their butts hit the seat, Junkrat started calling for her. “G’Day! Can we get some pints and flake and chips over here? And keep ‘em coming!” He slammed a pile of tokens on the table then leaned back like he was a bigshot. The bartender was older and seemed about ready to toss them when Junkrat started yapping, but the sight of those tokens changed her mind.

Lickety split to mugs of luke warm beer were set down for them. The smaller junker grabbed his and pulled it close, sniffing deep before taking a draught. Watching him sigh with happiness, Roadhog went ahead and tugged his over too. He pushed up his mask and took a quick sip. Roadhog grunted approvingly and went back for more. The two of them drained their drinks fast, enjoying the exotic flavor.

“Just as good as I remember!” he said as soon as his lips were free to do so. “Been ages since I had the chance to stop here.” Roadhog’s eyes lingered on that nostalgic look. They’d never talked about pasts before, with the exception of Junkrat initially mentioning he’d been on the run for a while. He waited for more, but none came. Rat just picked at the table until more beer and food came.

Flakes turned out to be fried lizard. Not that Roadhog had expected shark, but could have been something a little fancier or more vegetarian. At least there were chips. This beer went down slower, but Roadhog didn’t mind getting to enjoy himself before getting on with his dirty work.

They relaxed like this for a couple hours, eating and drinking while Junkrat made eyes at the bartender who laughed it off. Evening fell and Roadhog decided to make his move. Junkrat was on his third pint when he watched his partner wave the woman over.

“Get us some shots,” he said gruffly. This made Rat bounce excitedly in his seat.

“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about! Didn’t know you had it in ya Hog. Usually more of a party pooper.” Roadhog drummed his fingers against the table and frowned. He tried not to be obvious about it, but Junkrat stared at the exposed flesh of his partner’s face, while shrugging. “I’m just sayin’ you’s grundies are usually on too tight.”

Roadhog’s lip curled menacingly, but Junkrat was already red in the face and didn’t particularly care. With food and drink in his belly he was in too good a mood. That mood just go better when a set of shot glasses and a bottle were set down by them. A wise choice by a woman who didn’t want to have to refill many glasses in quick succession considering how huge and indulgent these two guests were.

Another benefit to biding his time was that he knew Junkrat’s ticks just well enough, which he’d now apply here. Monkey see, monkey do, Roadhog thought to himself as he poured out the shots and slammed the first one. As predicted Rat rose to the challenge and did the same. Grinning down at Junkrat, he poured and pounded another, then another, then another.

Junkrat felt awestruck seeing Roadhog smile for the first time. His mind screamed something he’d wanted very badly for a long time now, probably even before he’d ended up alone after escaping the omnium. Could we be friends?

He matched Roadhog’s drinks thoughtlessly, enjoying the burn of the mystery liquor. It tasted like an explosion. The warmth in his belly grew stronger as they sat basking in the glow of their buzz.

Hog was buzzed, and was going to be even more so soon, but he was easily three times as big as Junkrat. What would make him a little light headed was going to make that kid walk even less straight than he already did. And quick too considering how fast they’d just put these away. If his memory didn’t fail him, thirty minutes was how long it took to absorb the alcohol.

Sure enough Junkrat’s babbling started to get messy and his face was flushed. His hands were curled weakly around the glass mug that held the last of the beer he’d been nursing. Giving a sidelong glance to the bartender who was the only one left in the place at this point, Roadhog leaned in over the table and went for it.

“You never told me how you ended up in the omnium.”

Junkrat looked up and blinked, unused to having a conversation started with him. “I didn’t? Not much of a story honestly–“ he looked at the table and picked at it thoughtfully, “I mean I went there scrap huntin’ like how every one does! Mostly picked clean, but there’s still good stuff inside. Sometimes I miss scrappin’. Fossickin’ around and then you pull out something real good! Felt like winnin’ a pot of poker.” He sighed dreamily, and opened his mouth to continue, but Roadhog interjected.

“So you got really deep in there? To get the good stuff?”

“Oh yea mate, I really was too old for scrappin’ but I guess the kids aren’t that desperate. Got real far in. L- lucky I’m thin as I is. Got wedged for a bit there. Always gives a scare. One time when I was an anklebiter actually! Got so wedged had to starve it out, shrink a lil so I could wiggle out. Thought I was gonna go mad that time. Maybe I did a bit!” Giggling to himself, he tried to spin the mug, but ended up spilling the remnants on the table. “Shit!” he muttered. He tried to mop it up with his hankie to no avail.

The commotion made the bartender come over and clean it. Having her silently wipe down the table was awkward even for Junkrat. At least that hadn’t changed, Roadhog thought to himself. When she finally left the table, Roadhog meant to dive back into his interrogation, but Junkrat had different ideas.

Standing up abruptly and scooting out from the booth, he said, “I think I’ll go scrappin’ right now matter o’ fact. The junkyard here’s always been good! Need to replace those gun bits and bobs!” Roadhog started to pursue, but was met with a rifle cocked and aimed at him.

“Pay first, then you can catch your dumbass friend.” Roadhog moved slowly back to the table and counted out the tokens Junkrat had left from earlier and then added more from his own pocket until the sum was right. She stepped a bit closer to eye the pile, but not close enough for him to break her neck like he wanted right now. She nodded and gestured for him to leave with the barrel of the gun.

Dashing out to see where he went, Roadhog cursed under his breath in the dark. How the hell was a one legged, drunk off his ass junker so damn fast?


	6. Idiots

He looked at the bike and saw nothing but the endless flats of the Outback, so he ran deeper into town. Listening intently for the sound of Junkrat’s yabbering, he cursed at how noisy his own footsteps were. The heavy thunk of boots and rattling chain echoed against the corrugated metal sheets that lined the exterior of everyone’s homesteads. At least he knew what Junkrat was looking for. The junkyard, he’d said. Roadhog couldn’t see anything for the forest of ramshackle housing that loomed around him. The walkway between the buildings was mostly enclosed or peppered with laundry lines.

Moving swiftly, he didn’t stop until he heard that notorious cackle. It was faint, but it’s shrill sound carried to him none the less. He turned right and pursued the sound until he broke free from the maze of shacks. Silhouetted against the moon, a veritable mountain of scrap rose up a quarter mile from the town. Considering that there was no loping form headed for it, Junkrat must have already reached it.

Roadhog’s mind churned slowly as he concluded that this little village was a place Junkrat knew so well he could navigate it in the dark, drunk. Anger swelled in him at the thought of having been brought here without so much as a mention that Junkrat could probably be recognized. If that scrawny junker grew up here who knew what those two guys that had left the pub were now spreading. Or even that bartender. This was an unacceptable level of recklessness.

About two thirds to the junkyard, Hog just got even more pissed when he saw the sponge and cloth discarded to the ground. He could hear Junkrat digging around in there somewhere, throwing stuff about. Stepping past the rotted fence that once surrounded the place, Roadhog started walking through the place slowly, trying to pinpoint Junkrat’s location.

He made his way deep into the yard, following the sound of giggling and creaking metal. From up above he caught a glimpse of that orange peg leg kicking about with the rest of its owner lodged into the pile. At first Roadhog was going to try and climb up and rip that fool down from there, but it only took a step to tell that the his weight and the unsteadiness of the junk under his feet was a bad idea.

“Junkrat!”

That made the squirming come to an abrupt stop. Junkrat wiggled out of the gap he’d squeezed into and looked down. He was hanging precariously from a piece of lodged scrap, with one foot set on another. Waving with his free hand, he called back, “Still not picked clean! There’s a bonzer engine in here! Just gotta get at it–“

“Get the hell down from there!” Roadhog bellowed, fists painfully tight. Junkrat tensed up but was too emboldened by liquor to care if Hog was mad at him. He was having a good time and found something good, what was the problem?

“What you spitting the dummy for? I’m bein’ useful.”

“The hell you are, you brought us to your fucking home town! Who knows who saw you?” Roadhog grabbed a piece of metal and chucked it at Junkrat’s head. He tried to dodge, but got clipped anyways and yelped, clutching his head with his free hand.

‘The fuck was that for you drongo? This ain’t home, no way. Nobody knows my face here!” He snarled so intensely his golden teeth glinted in the moonlight, before grabbing a piece of scrap and chucking it down at Roadhog. It missed by a ways, so he started throwing more.

Roadhog easily sidestepped them all and growled, “You know this place like the back of your hand. You expect me to believe you didn’t live here?”

Pausing his barrage of trash, Junkrat cocked his head like Hog was speaking tongues. “I know every scrapheap east o’ the omnium you fuckin’ fat ass.”

“Yea right, you can’t even remember to pull up your damn pants after taking a shit. You’re shit at lying Rat.” Grabbing another piece of junk, he pelted Junkrat with it, who raised his arm to protect his head only to let out an oof as it hit him in the side.  
“I can remember plenty o’ shit!” he called back, surprising Hog with a fastball of a throw that hit his mask. “I can remember me whole life ‘fore the goin’ in the omnium. And the important stuff after it too! So fuck you!” He flipped Roadhog off, straining to lean as far out as he could from his perch.

Roadhog just flipped him off back, chest heaving from getting so worked up. “Why you know this place then, huh?” his throat twinged painfully as he continued to yell. “You said you never had a bike or truck in your damn life, how the hell you so well traveled then you lying little rat?”

Junkrat lept off his perch and landed on Roadhog’s chest, knocking the giant to the ground. The impact of the peg leg on his ribs sent a ripple of pain that made him want to curl up and nurse it. He was completely caught off guard and Junkrat didn’t hesitate to start punching Roadhog in the face. The mask caught a lot of the blows, but noticing that, he started to claw at it, raking his blunt nails at Roadhog’s jaw.

“You think you can call me whatever you want? I’ll show you a rat! I’ll eat your fucking face off!” Roadhog could see those amber eyes burning up, a deadly seriousness he hadn’t yet seen. He felt Junkrat grip his mask and lift it forcefully. “Show me your face! Show me!” he screamed until a huge hand grabbed him by the mid section and bodily threw him.

Roadhog climbed to his feet, feeling his bruised ribs ache. Junkrat coughed from the dirt forced in his mouth by the impact. Watching him slowly twist to get to his feet, Hog realized he couldn’t catch his breath. No matter how deep he breathed it wasn’t enough. Bringing a hand to his face, he realized there was nothing there and looking to the man stumbling to his feet, dangling in the thin pale hand– was his mask.

He started walking toward Junkrat, carefully measuring his breaths carefully. He could smell the rank stench of trash and shit wafting off the shacks upwind from them. The air was stale compared to the filtered version his mask provided. Blood dripped from the scratches on the sides of his face, framing him in red.

Rising to his full height, Junkrat looked Roadhog in the eyes for the first time. They both panted and stood still, watching each other. He took in the details of that ever hidden face, feeling powerful like he hadn’t in a long time. Roadhog stepped forward, reaching for the mask, which made Junkrat hop back. Grinning eerily, he dangled the mask at arm’s length to taunt its owner.

“Maybe now you’ll have some proper respect for your partner.” The last word was spat out of his mouth like a curse. “Maybe I’ll keep this to remember ya by!” That made him howl with laughter.

Holding one hand to his chest and the other still out for the mask, Roadhog spoke tightly. “I– I can’t breathe.” Junkrat kept laughing without hearing that quiet plea. Roadhog licked his lips, waiting out the cackle.  
“Junkrat–“ Hearing his name he froze and looked over. “I can’t breathe.” Roadhog was wheezing. “I need it.” The drowning sensation was building with every breath and Junkrat was just staring at him with a blank look. Maybe this was it, maybe he’d let himself get too confident this time. There was no way he could chase down that kid in this condition.

He closed his eyes and worked to slow his breathing, listening to his own heart pound. As he stood there he felt the familiar leather press against his face. Scrambling to hold it flush to his face, he breathed deep. It wasn’t enough however, so Roadhog fumbled to grab a hogdrogen from his belt. In his panic he let go of the mask, but it stayed in place. He saw thin fingers splay across the eyeholes to steady it until the little orange container came up and plugged into the mask, delivering a badly needed flood of bronchodilator.

Breathing deeply until it came easy, he felt those fingers pull away from under his own that had come up to help hold the mask and canister. Roadhog grabbed the straps and pulled them around until they clicked into the other side of the mask, freeing his hands. Everything came back into focus and Roadhog saw Junkrat watching him.

“You okay mate?” Junkrat asked quietly. Roadhog nodded. They stood silently like this for a while.

“Why did you give it back?” he finally asked, making Junkrat look up in surprise.

“Well, uh, I didn’t want ya to die. I like havin’ ya around.” It fell from his lips so naturally despite them being at each other’s throats just a few minutes ago. Roadhog didn’t know what to say to that.

Junkrat turned his back on Roadhog, looking off into the junkyard. “I was part of a crew. Fella made his livin’ by collecting orphans and havin’ them scraphunt. He’d take us all over. If you got enough you ate. Real good deal for a bunch of homeless anklebiters. Ain’t no one here gonna remember a junkrat, too many of us.”

Roadhog had never seen him do anything that exposed himself like this. He hardly saw Junkrat’s back period. But he didn’t let that distract him from the explanation he’d been asking for that started this fight. As long as he’d been out here, there was so much to junker life that he wasn’t a part of. No wonder Junkrat had looked at him like he was a fool for not believing he knew the junkyards.

“Thank you.”

That made Junkrat spin on his heel, disbelief evident on his face. But then it bloomed into the most genuine smile that had ever crossed his face. “Ain’t nothin’ mate!”

This whole incident left both of them exhausted on top of being buzzed and drunk respectively. Roadhog wordless turned to leave the junkyard and Junkrat followed after. As they reached the town’s edge, Junkrat took the lead, guiding them through the maze of shacks.

“I just wanna crash. Maybe that pub has a couple of beds.” Junkrat mumbled. Roadhog couldn’t help but agree all things considered. So the two made it back to follow through on that plan. The woman was closing up and was not pleased to see them, but another little pile of tokens made her change her mind.

She showed them to a room meant for four guests and let them be. The beds were narrow with thin mattresses, but it was warmer than outside and there were blankets and pillows. Roadhog grabbed three of the beds and pushed them together to make big enough for himself. Junkrat just collapsed on his bunk and fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

Roadhog stayed up for a while longer, reviewing what had just happened that night. His plan had gone terribly he concluded, but he’d at least learned something about the omnium. Whatever chemicals and radiation were in there they were severe enough to cause permanent short–term memory loss. But more than that he played over how Junkrat had pressed the mask to his face and stayed there holding it. He’d held Roadhog’s life in his hands and just handed it back.

He’d seen Junkrat fight, that kid was blood thirsty and relentless. Watching someone suffer didn’t mean anything to him. But he’d saved Roadhog and then told him he liked his company like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Reflecting on Junkrat’s words and his smile, Roadhog felt himself smile too. If he wasn’t so tired he would’ve fretted over it, and over the fond feeling in his chest. But instead he fell asleep.


	7. Now Who's Forgetful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: emeto

Though the room had no windows, habit made Roadhog wake anyways. His body was sore, particularly around his chest. The hogdrogen had spent itself on his lungs and cracked ribs, leaving a heavy welt where the peg leg had all but skewered him. And on top of that he was hungover. He hadn’t drunk much but beer before liquor– he gagged. Sitting up slowly, he looked over and saw Junkrat curled up under the blanket.

With that confirmed he slowly undid the straps on his mask. It wasn’t that he didn’t like showing his face, but there was just a innate vulnerability about it. Something he was sorely reminded of last night. Pulling it off slowly, he took a slow breath. The musty scent of the room hit him, then his and Junkrat’s body odor. The mask purged odors, so he hadn’t noticed how rank the two of them were. Glad he had the mask if this is what everyone was smelling like all the time.

He kept breathing steadily, testing himself. It seemed that he hadn’t gotten worse since obtaining the mask. He could breathe open air as long it wasn’t too polluted. Or if he wasn’t in a high stress situation like last night. Memories of that terrifying drowning sensation came back and made him pull the mask back on. He dwelled on that fear, sitting quietly and delivering giving himself a check up. The process soothed him like it always did.

Rising to his feet and stretching, he walked over to Junkrat and shook him awake. Before Rat could do his usual panic at being woken like this, Roadhog yanked his hand back. He watched his partner twist around to claw and bite where his arm had just been. A lesson well learned the first time he had to wake this kid. But this time the panic was cut short by Junkrat hissing and moaning as the movement caught up with his hang over.

“Shit my head,” he groaned, cradling his skull in his hands. “This is right miserable ‘s what this is.” Junkrat opened his mouth to say something more, but his eyes went wide right before doubling over and vomiting violently. Roadhog closed his eyes slowly, accepting the knowledge that his boots were now covered in barf. Junkrat went back for seconds as Roadhog stepped back and started to undo his shoes.

Holding them at arms length as he stepped out to find the washroom, he was more glad than ever that he could not smell anything. He could hear Junkrat still hacking down the hall when he got there.

Junkrat trembled over the edge of his bed, panting as spittle and bile dripped from his lips. He hadn’t meant to drink so much, but when Roadhog egged him on he couldn’t resist. Being drunk was dangerous and look at what it had gotten him into. Almost killed his bodyguard and making him spit up all his lizard. He grabbed the blanket and used it wipe off his lips. So much of last night was a daze, he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten the bruises or why or how he ended up holding Roadhog’s mask.

What was vivid as if it had just happened was seeing that blood framed face staring at him. Dark brown eyes that glinted with fear as a hand came up and touched the naked flesh of his heavy cheeks. The scar that crawled all the way to his forehead and stretched as heavy lips spoke. Junkrat pet his head, trying to soothe the pulsing agony in his skull. It was like this sometimes. He’d only remember standing over a man, fists smeared in blood, but not why he had done it.

In those moments it was easy to brush off. Who cares if he beat a stranger’s face in? But he’d done something terrible to Roadhog, who had smiled at him and poured shots last night. This time what curled up in his gut wasn’t nausea, but guilt. If his head didn’t hurt so much already he’d be slamming his fist against his skull right now. He knew he shouldn’t care. No one got hurt, but Junkrat could remember that flutter of hope when his partner had smiled. Being in someone’s presence but not being friends had made him remember just how painfully lonely he was.  
After a while, Junkrat got up, avoiding his pile of spew and stepped into the hall. Roadhog stepped out from the washroom and walked up to him. Looking at him, Hog noticed that his face was pale and his temple had a nasty welt. He grunted and thumbed toward the washroom. Junkrat nodded and shambled toward it.

Roadhog followed him and leaned against the wall in the hallway while Junkrat cleaned up and took a piss. He wasn’t used to the silence and wasn’t sure if it was because of some tension left from last night or the hangovers. Who was he kidding, things had gone to serious shit last night. It wouldn’t be surprising if he got fired today. That would be a major hitch in his plans.

While Hog went over what he should do, what he could do, Junkrat shuffled out and cleared his throat to get attention. When the mask quirked toward him he spoke, voice raspy from being burned by his bile, “We got anything for the brown bottle flu in that stash of scrips you got?” Roadhog nodded and they headed downstairs, slowly. Both of them not looking forward to seeing sunlight.

They squinted together in the light as they exited, Junkrat cursing under his breath and Roadhog giving a curt grunt. Once adjusted they looked to where the bike was parked.

It was gone.

Roadhog shook his head and tried to remember if he’d moved it last night. Junkrat assumed his memory had failed him yet again and just waited for Roadhog to take them to wherever it was actually put. But Hog didn’t move, the dawning realization came that last night he told Junkrat not to put down a trap. He had meant to get the location of the treasure and split and didn’t want to deal with getting a drunk as balls Junkrat to disarm an explosive.

He stared at where it should have been, willing it to reappear, before turning back to rest his head against one of the supports that lined the pub’s long porch. Rat turned to ask him what he was doing, but then Roadhog screamed. It wasn’t like his battle time roars, it was far more brutal.

The sound made Junkrat feel like his head was going to split open. “What the hell you on about?” he yelled back, hands clasped over his ears. But Roadhog didn’t stop until every molecule of air was gone from his lungs, pushing his throat to its limits. Rat was about to speak up again when it stopped, but watched in awe as Roadhog leaned back and punched the pole in half.

Fists clenching and unclenching, he tried to calm down. His chest was tight with emotion. The bike was the last thing he had from his life before. The weight of its loss was far more than he had ever expected. Maybe made worse because it was his own fault, just like most of the things he lost were. Memories came flooding in of long dead friends, images of happier times and a younger him. He felt consumed with regret and emotion that he had always struggled to contain.

A small touch on his arm roused him from his thoughts. Junkrat’s hand was still floating near him, but held up to gesture that he meant no harm.

“Hog– what happened to the bike? I don’t remember–“ He trailed off, brows furrowed together as if he could somehow summon the memories back.

Sighing, Roadhogs shook his head and put space between them, moving toward the spot the bike had been. “I told you not to trap it. Then I forgot we didn’t when we came back to sleep.” Talking hurt now thanks to that scream.

It was silent for a moment, but then Junkrat spoke up. “The fucks who took our ride gonna be lookin’ a lot like my liquid laugh when we done with them.” His voice was so cock sure, like they weren’t stranded in a rinkydink outpost surrounded by miles of empty Outback.

“How.” Roadhog turned around and stared at Junkrat. “Bike’s probably miles from here by now.”

Junkrat’s face twisted up angrily. “Don’t give a two shits where they are! Nobody steals from me!” He thumbed at himself. “And since we’s partners that means nobody steals from you!” He pointed at Roadhog. “Somebody here knows who took it. There’s always eyes open in these lil woopwoop towns. Just gotta find someone who’ll give you the drum!”

The certainty in his voice and authoritative tone bolstered the dam in Roadhog’s chest that was holding in all his emotions. He’d even go so far as to venture that this was the first time Junkrat actually sounded like a boss with a plan rather than a child picking where he wanted to go next.

“Finding that drum is your job,” Rat said, pointing at Hog again. “Scare the piss out o’ these buncha ratbags. I’ll be at the junkyard.”


	8. Waltzing Matilda

While Junkrat had been so self–assured while talking up their plan, he was still absolutely exhausted. That little shot of adrenaline burnt off leaving his throbbing hangover to haunt him. He wanted to curl up and wait out the suffering, but he couldn’t let himself. He needed to scrap like his life depended on it.

He forced his eyes to focus despite the painful pressure behind them, seeking out the glint of parts he needed to build his bombs. No bike meant that all his mines were gone. All he had was his bandolier and a loaded launcher. And for Roadhog that meant he only had two canisters of the healing whatsit, his hook, and his scrap gun. As he became engrossed in the hunt, thoughts of anything other than mechanics faded away. He’d grab parts and tuck them in his pockets or mouth, stopping only two put a pair together then tuck it away again. A pile of junk that formed over the hours acted as a home base where he’d drop things off, half build something, then scamper away again.

While both junkers weren’t pleased with the situation, they also both were grateful that it had forced their hand. Roadhog felt relieved that as bad as his little plan had gone Junkrat didn’t seem to want him gone. He had another chance to get his hands on whatever it was that kid had stashed. And for Junkrat it meant that Roadhog and him weren’t going to part anytime soon.

Once he had enough parts, Junkrat sat down to really work. The sun had burned him badly without his sunscreen that had gone with the bag and bike. Sitting in the dirt twisting odds and ends together, he reminisced on childhood days spent here so many years ago. Maybe that’s when he’d gotten his taste for companionship.

“I’m a right fuck up ain’t I. What kind of dill lives out here and gets lonesome? Actin’ like a toughie but then this bloke comes around and now I’m goin’ soft.” He worried his chapped lips. “Guess didn’t know what a deal I had then.” Images of laughing children and holding hands and playing before bed came to mind. “Or maybe it’s a curse. Old man Gunner probably wanted us to like bein’ together. Make us stay and work. End up like the rest o’ these shack humpers.”

He grabbed some wire and stripped it with his teeth, cringing as the metal scraped against his incisors. His mind jumped manically from memory to memory of friends he’d had in his youth. “Well,” he spat out the torn rubber coating, “as bad as it was could have been worse. Not bein’ alone probably was the only thing that kept me from just runnin’ with the dingos.”

By the time Roadhog arrived at the junkyard the sun was setting. Junkrat was traipsing about screwing something together while crooning a shaky, but heart felt rendition of Waltzing Matilda. Roadhog watched silently, listening to Junkrat’s voice try to hit the notes right. It wasn’t good, but music was something he missed terribly from the time before the meltdown. His voice grew louder as he hit the final chorus “His ghost! May be heard! As you pass! By that billabong!” with each beat he jumped, grinning as he finished with a slow and shaky, “you’ll come a waltzing Matilda with me,” to conclude the song.

Roadhog clapped for him and made Junkrat spin around. He looked alarmed and then embarrassed. His face was already burnt from the sun, but he could feel himself blush anyways.

“D–don’t– ” he stuttered, “Why didn’t you say anything!” Roadhog just laughed at him and walked the rest of the way. When he got closer Junkrat stopped the rant he had building up to stare at the blood smeared across Roadhog’s kunckles.

“I hope that’s a sign you got something good, mate,” he said, pointing at the tacky blood. Roadhog looked down at his hands then started to rub it off on his pants.

“It’s bad. It’s two weeks walking to get there but we don’t have any water and the tokens we got ain’t enough to buy it. Not that we could carry enough with us. What’s more is there’s no stops along the way. This place is sitting on the only well for miles.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. It’s a shite situation, but who did it I wanna start imagining what I’m gonna do to ‘em!” Junkrat was so flippant about it that Roadhog decided he took back feeling like Rat had actually been acting a little responsible for once.

“Some shitheels that go by the Hangmen. Apparently they don’t let the locals have rides. Force them to stay put so they can leech ‘em. People that come through and get caught get stranded here too.”

He was trying to get Junkrat to take this seriously, but the kid was just manically finishing the construction in his hands and giggling in the way that meant he was thinking of a way to get into trouble. He stomped up and grabbed Rat by the shoulder, turning him around roughly. “Don’t you get it? We’re fucked. We’ll be lucky if we can catch a ride out of here the next time someone rolls through.”

Junkrat usually would have reacted badly to being grabbed like that. He still jumped in his skin, but he didn’t lash out. Instead Roadhog was faced with that unnatural serious expression he’d seen earlier.

“I told ya we’re gonna get what’s ours didn’t I?” The intense glower faded then vanished, replaced with his usual devious smile. “Let ol’ Junkrat do his work. Also Can you get your mitt off me my skin’s bought ready to slough off!”

Roadhog was perplexed by this confidence backed by seemingly nothing at all, but honestly what else could he do but let Junkrat do whatever he was doing. It wasn’t like Roadhog had a plan. Then looking at Junkrat’s angry red skin, he grunted and let go. At least that was something he could help with. He wandered off and let Junkrat get back to his building.

He walked out of the junkyard and returned to a small, enclosed communal garden he’d passed by while knocking heads. The maze of shacks had revealed itself to him a little now. But still he took a while retracing his steps. It was dark when he was headed back to Junkrat. He could see that a fire had been started. Guess they were gonna make camp there for tonight.

Junkrat didn’t even acknowledge him when he came up and kneeled down to work on what he’d collected. He’d ripped a small aloe plant from its pot and was now carefully slicing open its leaves. Scraping the goop onto a piece of scrap from Rat’s pile, he called out when he was done.

“C’mere.” Junkrat stopped and peeked at him from across the fire. For a moment he thought he’d have to raise his voice, but Junkrat stood up and came over. His hands were still working without him looking as he stood over Roadhog with his head cocked curiously.

“Sit. With your back to me.” That made Junkrat stop and go incredibly tense. The image of the night before when Rat had turned his back on him for the first time prodded his mind. “Just gonna treat that sunburn,” he assured.

“Oh, uh, alright then.” He squatted and turned around, letting himself plop onto his ass before going back to his work. Junkrat shivered under the cold application of aloe but also in surprise at how gentle the touch was. Honestly he didn’t know what he expected, maybe that Roadhog would smear it on in one big swipe.

Instead Roadhog was carefully distributing the aloe vera across Junkrat’s shoulders and neck. He was trying to keep it applied evenly and get as much out of the limited amount he had, didn’t really want to go out of his way to hurt Rat right now either. If anything Roadhog was grateful that someone was there to ground him. The loss of the bike had thrown him through a loop. Probably would have raged a lot harder if Junkrat hadn’t distracted him with this nonsense plan he was cooking up.

Junkrat on the other hand was trying his hardest not to scramble away. He couldn’t focus on his work and his muscles twitched under every smear of goo. It felt good to have the burns cooled by whatever this was. But what was killing him was how nice it was to be touched gently. It ran counter to his instincts. The press of callous against where a fragile kidney lay beneath, the jolt of fear when monstrously huge hands that he’d seen snap necks enveloped his back. The feeling was too much and too weird. Completely unfamiliar.

Overstimulated and tense, he almost wanted to weep with relief as Roadhog finished smoothing it down his arms and let go. He started to get up and go, but a sticky hand caught him again and had him turn. When he looked back a fat finger smeared more of the cold stuff on his nose and cheeks.

Roadhog wiped his hands off and grunted approvingly at his work. He watched his patient scuttle away around the fire back to his pile of trinkets. Time whittled away in relative silence. Each junker lost to his own thoughts about the rapid change in situation that had occurred to them in the past two days. Eventually Roadhog fell asleep. Junkrat didn’t.


	9. Murder Party

When Roadhog wakes up and looks over he knows immediately that Rat stayed up all night working again. He’s built– something. It’s pretty big but he has no idea what it’s supposed to be. Based on how the kid is still going it must not even be close to done yet. When something was close to done he’d giggle and smile in the most irritating way.

With waking comes a dull pain in his gut. It reminds him that they didn’t eat yesterday. Shit, Junkrat probably hadn’t even stopped to get a drink. Rising slowly, stretching lazily, he pulled the leftover tokens out of his pocket and counted them. The people in town probably wouldn’t be pleased to see him again, not after what he’d done yesterday. But that woman in the pub seemed to be easily swayed. So he took it upon himself to go get food and water for them.

When he returned Rat was still going, mouth hanging open and panting lightly. Probably exhausted. He set down a jug of water and a bag of mulga seedcakes with a couple of strips of roo jerky. The moment these appeared, Junkrat was on them. It was so easy to forget the hunger in his belly when he was so practiced at it. He tried to drain the water in one go, but Roadhog ripped the jug from his hands before he could, knowing it would just get vomited back up if Rat went too fast.

When the sun started to peak in the sky, Roadhog looked up from his spot in the shade where he’d been watching Junkrat work tirelessly. He scratched himself pensively and looked around the junkyard. His eyes fell on a piece of tattered tarp. It took a lot of effort to dig it out without ripping it, but he managed. By the time noon came he used the scrap and pieces of leftover rebar Junkrat had scrounged to pitch a tiny roof over his partner.

The sudden shade, made the blonde glance up in surprise. “Oh, thanks mate. Now who’s the tinkerer here,” he joked, laughing as he cracked his back noisily. He pulled the things he needed in closer so they too would be in the tiny piece of shade. “But what about you?”

“I don’t burn, I tan,” he answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Junkrat scrunched up his face and looked between his still red, angry skin with pale white where the sun hadn’t touched him and then at Roadhog’s brown, even toned flesh. Guess it was kind of obvious. Roadhog went back lying against a relatively comfortable patch of dirt and garbage.

They whiled the rest of the day like this, oddly relaxed considering their predicament. If it weren’t for how feverishly Junkrat was toiling away Hog probably wouldn’t have been very calm about the situation. But right now, he was trusting whatever little scheme he had going.

By the end of the day, Junkrat was visibly wilted. His usual energy was gone and what was left were jerky twitches. He didn’t even bother to start a fire for the night like he had yesterday. Roadhog broke down the tarp to get at Junkrat, who ignored him. When he reached down and separated Rat from his project he got a response.

“Hey. Hey! What are you doin’ I ain’t done yet!” Junkrat stretched to take the part back but Roadhog just held him at bay by the forehead.

“You need sleep.”

“The hell I do– every day that goes by is more stuff of ours they could be ruining or selling or using–“

Roadhog silenced him by just smothering the whole of Junkrat’s face with his hand. He knew how much stress a person could take before collapsing and more than 48 hours without sleep was cutting it too close.

“We’re gonna make ‘em pay, so it’s ok.”

The little rhyme to his sentence had Junkrat giggling hysterically. That made Roadhog let go. Then it grew into a cackle. He was laughing so hard tears started running down his face. He knew it wasn’t that funny, but he was so damn tired and over worked it was killing him.

“Christ I ain’t laughed like then in years, oh,” he wiped his face and giggled a little more. “Hooley dooley. You’re right mate I think if I stay up any longer I’m gonna go madder than I already is.” He lay back in the dirt between pieces of his contraption with a heavy sigh.

Roadhog laughed quietly and shook his head before leaving to gather up something to burn for the fire. He expected Junkrat to be asleep when he got back, but the kid had his fingers woven on his stomach, lying uncharacteristically still. While he built the fire, he could feel eyes on him.

“Are we ok Hog? I mean since the mask thing?” Roadhog looked over at him. He looked uncomfortable. “We still partners after this?” He looked back up at the sky and drummed his fingers on his concave gut.

Using the pretense of finishing up the fire to give himself a few moments to respond, Roadhog felt relieved. He’d wanted to ask the same honestly. Now he didn’t need to worry about trying to get the location of that treasure until after this ordeal was over. “We’re good,” he confirmed.

Junkrat gave an uneven smile and relaxed. Then he was out like a light.

The next day followed the same pattern as the day before. The moment Junkrat’s eyes cracked open, he was up and working. Roadhog retrieved more water and food. He felt pretty useless just sitting and watching. He hadn’t realized that he could still miss material things even now after being forced to only carry what could be packed in bike satchels. The bike had his little paperback books and his ancient rubix cube. But his time came that afternoon.

Rising onto stiff legs, Junkrat walked over to where Roadhog had been whiling away the time bending pieces of metal into various shapes. Beside him lay several attempted pigs and a few other farm animals. Rat looked down at him and his little pile of abstract sculptures and took one, examining it closely. Roadhog watched him lick it with the tip of his tongue before frowning and putting the sculpture in the pocket of his cargo shorts. Roadhog had learned not ask why Junkrat felt compelled to do these things.

“Anyways,” Rat started as if he had been talking and not licking that little pig sculpture, “I need yer help. You and that hook gotta pull down the top of one of these piles so we can get to something.”

With a grunt, Hog stood up and followed Junkrat back to the pile of junk where they’d had their fight.

“I found a viable engine in there when I was scrappin’ day before.” He remembered Junkrat saying that before they started going at it, but apparently Rat didn’t. But he did remember taking the mask. Those words from that evening came floating back, about remembering the ‘the important stuff’. That made him rub his jaw thoughtfully.

“Oi. Are you listenin’?” Junkrat shouted, hands thrown up indignantly. Hog broke from his thoughts.

“Huh?” he grunted.

“I was tellin’ ya that ya need to tug that,” he pointed up at rusted out pipe that was big enough to hide a child. “Not to skite, but if I’m still any good at this then that‘s the load bearin’ part of that pile on up. Rest ought to come sliding down after so get ready to hop.”

He nodded and pulled out his hook, tugging out the chain to its maximum length and handing it to Junkrat. Rat took it and scrambled up to the pipe. Looking it over, he found the best sized hole that had been rusted out and jammed the hook in. With an experimental tug, Junkrat nodded and called out, “She’s ready!” before hopping down. Roadhog answered with a silent thumbs up.

Reeling in the chain until it was taut, Roadhog rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath, then he pulled hard. The pipe resisted, only moving a couple inches. He adjusted, planting one foot behind him to widen his stance and wrapping the chain around his hand before yanking again, this time making it a continuous pull. The hook crushed the rusted portion of the pipe it was in with an audible crunch as the pipe creaked under the weight of the load above it. It moved only another few inches.

Sweat was already starting to bead and drip down his back. The heat of the sun didn’t help. Letting the chain go slack again, he then want back for another pull only to get the same results. It would come out eventually, but he was going to be sore. Junkrat could only watch on in awe as Roadhog slowly reeled in the pipe. He had wholly believed Roadhog could do it, but seeing it happen was totally different. It was a reminder of just how brutally strong his bodyguard was.

When the pipe and its pile of junk finally came crashing down the sun was just barely lingering in the sky. Roadhog scrambled away from the flood of garbage, tripping to the ground beside Junkrat.

Squatting beside the groaning Roadhog, he chimed, “I’d help you up, but I think ye’d rip me arm off.” Getting up to his elbows, Hog reached out and shoved the kid to the ground before getting up the rest of the way. This just made Junkrat break out into laughter.

Junkrat sat up and looked at Roadhog dusting himself off. “Alright last thing ya gotta do. I’m gonna expose the engine then slide it down. Once It’s on the ground ya need to carry it to camp. Roadhog nodded and reached down to help him up. Though it was the first time they’d ever done this neither thought much of it. It felt incredibly natural to do.

As planned, Rat tugged several things away from the pile and shoved the little engine down the junk pile. Roadhog caught it and hefted it with two hands. This was way easier than pulling out the pipe, but his arms protested against the weight after being overworked. He followed Junkrat back to the camp where he was instructed to set it down on a frame Junkrat had constructed.

When it dropped in perfectly, Junkrat clapped happily. “Ain’t that just spiffy? It was a crapshoot that it was the engine I thought it were, but look it at now. It’ll be ready tomorrow.” He smiled that wide sharp toothed grin of his and punched Roadhog’s arm playfully. “We can finally get outta this shit hole!” The smile twisted into something more sinister. “And give those drongos a time.”

Chuckling darkly at the thought, Roadhog nodded and went to build up their fire for the night. Junkrat pounced on his new toy and started fixing and tuning it. Hog could tell that this was going to be another all nighter for his partner, but he was just as eager to get the hell out of here. Rat could sleep on the way to their murder party.


	10. Friends Peel Friend's Sunburns

 

By morning it was done. Not that Roadhog actually understood what Junkrat had built. It was like– a tiny car? Four wheels and suspension with a light casing to keep the worst of the grit out. Most peculiar was that on top was essentially a shallow cart. After he finished squinting at it, he turned to Junkrat.

“So, how’s this gonna fix our problems?”

“Water’s what’s keepin’ us from goin’ where we need to be, right mate? Well this can carry two weeks of water. And whatever else we need. C’mon, let’s go load her up.” He grabbed the chain that hung in front of it and started pulling. Roadhog frowned watching Junkrat walk away with what seemed like an overly complex homemade wagon. Well, either Junkrat really went mad this time or this wagon would haul supplies.

They didn’t have enough tokens to buy what they needed, so they just took it. After what Roadhog had done to someone with his bare hands no one tried to fight when the scrap gun was leveled at the pump master to fill up the water barrels they’d taken. The suspension sat low as the water filled up the barrels. After that they robbed the woman in the pub. Roadhog really liked doing that one. He hadn’t forgotten how she had leveled that rifle at him before, so seeing her spit fire as Junkrat loaded up seed cakes and jerky onto their wagon, was a pleasure.

With that they were set to try and trek the brutal Outback on foot. Junkrat refused to start the engine until they’d reached the edge of town, making Hog very irritable since he was the only one strong enough to drag the now incredibly heavy cart. But when they were finally there, Rat dropped down beside the wagon and crawled underneath, hissing about how cramped it was.

A minute passed and Roadhog almost audibly gasped when the wagon lifted up, tires tucking neatly under itself. Junkrat wiggled out from under it and whooped happily, hopping round his creation to get a look at it from every angle.

Roadhog spun toward him, eyes wide under his mask. “This– how the hell did you do this? There’s only gas out here!”

Junkrat smiled coyly, just barely flashing his teeth and pressing the tips of his fingers to his lips. “Sorry mate, a fella’s gotta keep some tricks up his sleeve.” He strutted happily to the front of the wagon and picked up the chain and gave it a tug. Their transport floated forward obediently.

Doubly stunned now, both by their almost modern cart and by Junkrat’s sudden inclination not to yabber about how great he was, Roadhog checked out for a minute. Only when Rat called out to him “Hey c’mon, ya bastard!” did he finally come back to earth. He jogged to catch up, giving a glance back at the sad little outpost they’d left.

Roadhog had to admit he was not used to walking this long and this far. They were more than half way in. No turning back. While he trudged along, Junkrat moved like a machine, albeit a machine with a limp, clearly used to trekking on foot. It had been a while since he was so thankful for his mask, he knew that if he had to make this trek without it he’d be gasping for breath. The two of them panted out of sync as they endured the midday heat.

Rat was hiding under the scrap of tarp Roadhog had given him to shield his now peeling skin from further damage. At night he’d sit by the fire peeling it and showing Roadhog how big the pieces were.

“You wanna try getting the pieces on me back?” Junkrat offered jokingly, shaking a piece of dry skin at Hog. To his surprise, Roadhog actually got up and sat down behind him. He didn’t breathe as a huge forefinger and thumb grabbed a piece of flaking skin and carefully peeled it, tugging in different directions to try and keep it from breaking.

When it snapped off, Roadhog chuckled and showed Rat the huge piece he’d gotten. “Nasty,” he rumbled, holding the skin to the light of the fire. Then he balled it up and tossed it in, laughing some more as it burned up. Rat started laughing too, muscles unclenching. He worked at a piece on his arm as Hog took hold of another. When they ran out of skin they went to bed.

Sometimes during the hottest parts of the day, Junkrat would look over at Roadhog, hearing the heavy rasp of breath through his mask and stop. “Christ! I need a break mate. Let’s set down by that there shard and take a breather.” Roadhog knew full well that Junkrat didn’t need a break, but grunted and accepted anyways. Then they’d ration the water out and Rat would drink most of his, but leave an extra gulp and give to Roadhog, muttering about, “Don’t wanna get water logged and yarf it back up.”

Roadhog didn’t know how to feel about being taken care of like this. He had never been the one holding someone back before or at least not since he’d been young. He wanted to be upset, offended, but Junkrat went about it with unusual delicacy. Finally, on one burning day as they sat in a sliver of shade, Rat stopped chattering for a moment to take half his jerky and offer it to Roadhog.

“Eat up! You lost a couple pounds thanks to this walkabout, don’t want ya to end up lookin’ like me now!” he was laughing and smiling brightly as if his own ribs hadn’t become all the more pronounced now at the very end of their trip. Roadhog stared at him and the jerky. Philanthropy like this could be a death sentence in the Outback and the image of Rat raging at him for not splitting those meds right then came to mind.

“Junkrat,” he started, before reaching back and unclipping his mask. This would throw him off, make it easy to get an answer out of him. Wit his face exposed, Hog looked at Junkrat and continued, “why have you been giving me so much of your rations? I thought it was fifty–fifty with you.”

Hog had been absolutely right about taking off the mask. Rat was like a deer in the headlights seeing that mysterious face in broad daylight. “I– I was just worried, mate!,” he stuttered, staring with interest at the severe tan line where the mask normally sat. “It’s a rough go, I can give me pal a lil extra can’t I?”

Roadhog saw a flash of a cringe hit Junkrat’s face when the words slipped out of his mouth, but he tried to play it off with a nervous smile. Pal. Worried. The words rolled around in Hog’s head. He pursed his lips and huffed through his nose.

“Thanks. I appreciate it,” he said, taking a couple of the strips of jerky offered to him and tearing into them. He didn’t put his mask on just yet, relishing in having the sun on his face.

Junkrat turned away to eat the rest of his ration and to hide the violent blush on his face. Embarrassment didn’t come often to a man who had the social grace of a baked potato, but he never meant to blurt that he thought of Hog as a friend or worse, worried about other people. It was an admission of weakness. If it had been taken the wrong way, an insult to his bodyguard. But with Hog’s face in plain light, it seemed to have gone– well? And he’d even thanked him!

While Rat continued to furiously chew on his jerky, caught deep in thought, Roadhog slipped his mask back on and drew a deep breath of purified air. They’d been travelling together for a while now. Probably a little over two months if he remembered how many full moons he’d seen. A comfortable warmth started to build in his chest as he reflected on Rat’s words. He’d really fucked up this long con hadn’t he?

Two more days passed and they now stood within sight of their goal. Junkrat was almost doubled over with glee, mouth running a mile a minute about what he was going to do to these guys. Roadhog couldn’t help but laugh darkly at some of the things on the list. He liked how the kid’s mind worked. The laugh made Rat look up at him and grin madly.

With the place in sight, they picked a place to make one last camp. Rat got to work breaking down the cart. From the cart came a pile of scrap that he wrapped up in the tarp and passed to Roadhog. Clever. The engine was still worth something though, so he dug a shallow hole with his bare hands and buried it.

“Remember this landmark for me would ya Hog?” He pointed to the large rock they were hiding out by. With a grunt, the big man grabbed his hook and carved FUCK OFF in big letters. This made Junkrat laugh so hard he couldn’t breathe just like Hog knew it would. When he’d finally caught his breath he took the hook and added one of his patented little smiley faces.  
They rested, but didn’t sleep. When the night was its darkest they got up and started walking toward the Hangmen’s encampment. The closer they got the more they realized that this was more like a headquarters than like what they’d dealt with before when they raided the Head Hunters.

Slinking up to the 12 foot fence that surrounded the place, Roadhog raised his hook, slamming it down to bust the lock on the double door gates leading in. The lock fell to pieces, one of which Rat compulsively collected for future use. They got a few feet inside before an alarm rang out.

“Shit!” Junkrat undid the safety on his launcher and charged forward toward the building. Roadhog started to jog after him, readying his hook and gun for the fight. On the flat roof of the headquarters, men with rifles emerged and took aim at the two. Junkrat threw down a mine and launched up to meet them, providing a dust cloud of cover for Roadhog to hook safely from.

Though his vision was obscured, the men were so clustered Hog didn’t need to aim too precisely. The riflemen were distracted by the heavy thud of Junkrat crashing onto the roof beside them. He twisted his neck to look at them with a dangerous smile, just in time to hear the aborted scream of one of them to be torn down to the earth and into Hog’s scrap gun.

The man closest to Rat fired and missed, but Rat hit the deck anyways, rolling farther away from the group. He came up on one foot out of his roll and fired into them. “You’re blowing up!” he cackled as the unlucky men that his grenade rolled under went to pieces. He fired again to get the rest, laughing all the harder.

His laughter was cut short as a shot went through the meat of his shoulder. Looking back where it came from, he saw a woman with a rifle seated in the watch tower that had probably been the one to sound the alarm on them. She saw her taking aim on him again and dived off the roof.

Clutching his bleeding shoulder, he turned to Hog and called out, “Sniper in the tower!” He and Roadhog moved toward it, Rat one handedly pulling out his pocket soldering iron and flicking it on. It heated as he pressed against the leg of the tower, letting Hog run up and past him. Waiting for the heat, he cursed the weak battery it ran on. He took a couple of preparatory breaths then jammed the iron in the bullet wound, screaming as the flesh sizzled.

A lone sniper was easy to take out for Roadhog, she ought to have waited for the back he knew was coming. She knew he was coming for her and tried to fire when he reached the door, but he kicked in the door so hard it flew back and hit her. All he needed was that moment of confusion to get his opportunity. The scrap gun converted her to a pincushion. But at the same time he heard Junkrat scream. Fear pricked his heart as he tore downstairs to find Rat pushing the iron further into his shoulder, then all the way out.  
Rat was breathing raggedly as he held the flesh–coated iron shakily, but to his credit in moments he was hefting his launcher again with a weak smile. Once again Hog was reminded of just how tough Junkrat was. They both waited here under the cover of the tower for more attackers, but as moments passed, none came. The silence was deafening. They kept waiting, but when nothing came of it, they stepped out cautiously into the empty yard of the headquarters.

Exchanging a glance, the two headed for the nearest set of doors into the building. They were locked and made heavier than even Hog’s shoulder could handle. But nothing a well placed explosive couldn’t handle. This time Junkrat took point, creeping down the hall as the even thunk of his peg leg against the cement floor echoed. He peeked around the corner and there was still nothing. He stepped out and started down the hallway. Hog jogged to catch up, equally perplexed by the lack of enemies.

“Maybe we overestimated them?” Junkrat asked, scratching his head.

“Doubt that. Let’s just find our stuff first.”

Cautiously, they made their way toward where’d they’d seen a garage. All the amenities for a large gang were present. Mess hall, dorms, and lavatories. It even looked lived in, but not a soul was present. Their tension grew and grew. When the garage was finally in sight, they could see their bike inside.

“Maybe they figured we’s more trouble than it’s worth?” Junkrat offered. Roadhog wasn’t too sure, but entered anyways.

While Junkrat moved to find how to open the garage door, Roadhog grabbed the bike to look her over. The moment he gripped her, pain unlike anything he’d felt before hit him. His hands were burning and he wanted to let go of the handlebar, but his body was seizing violently as electricity pumped through him.

The sound of screaming through clenched teeth had Rat spinning on his heel. He ran to Roadhog and pulled him off the bike. He tried to hold him up, but there was no way he could hold him up so Hog sank to the floor.

“Hog! Roadhog!” Junkrat screamed, shaking him. The stench of burned flesh was horrendous and it made Rat gag. He dropped and pressed his head to Roadhog’s chest, listening for a heartbeat. As he did this from the corner of his eye he saw three men come out from a hole in the wall that had not been there before. Their guns were trained on him and he was in a vulnerable position without his launcher in hand. If it were just him he’d chance ripping off a grenade from the bandolier, but Roadhog was right there under him.

The man in the back of the trio stepped forward and smiled thinly. “Good to see you again Jamie. Never thought you’d come to visit.”


	11. River

Junkrat closed his eyes and confirmed the Roadhog was still breathing before slowly sitting up. The men tensed, but didn’t fire.

“Where’d you get that name from?” he asked, looking the stranger over. They were extremely lean, giving Rat a run for his money. Black hair tied back in a long ponytail, dark skin, and dressed plainly in dark long sleeve shirt and joggers, no armor unlike their men. Despite the immaculate nature of their clothes and hair, their hands and face were rough. A scar across the meat of their chin that made his mind prickle. Maybe he did know them?

“I’m not surprised you don’t recall. It was ages ago. If it weren’t for the leg and the hair I may not have remembered you either. I really try to forget those years as a junk rat. I was River to you all.”

“River?” he repeated, memories flooding back. “Shit, it’s been ages, mate!” He smiled as confidently as he could, trying to swallow his anger at what had happened to Roadhog. “I missed you lot after the old man booted me for gettin’ so big. Glad to see someone amounted to something!” He laughed derisively and moved to stand up. The men stepped forward again ready to shoot, but River tapped their shoulders calmly.

Rising up off the floor, he struggled not to look back at his still collapsed partner. “Clever set up ya got there in that old huntin’ ground of ours. Been doin’ well I take it?” If Junkrat had ever come close to charming this was it.

River clasped their hands together and nodded. “Extremely well! I never would have dreamed I’d be the head of my own gang, but when I got too old for scrapping I had to do something right? How have you been? I mean, outside of what we’ve put you through.”

“Oh you know, seein’ what little world we got to see. Did odd jobs for a while for some suits. Got real sick of that and now I’m doin’ that whole raider thing.”

“And how does he,” River pointed down at Roadhog, “factor into this?”

“Oh, uh,” Junkrat looked down finally at Roadhog and immediately regretted it. He was certain his eyes betrayed him. “That’s just my bodyguard. We’re goin’ half and half on the goods. He’s tough and has a ride, so was a real deal.”

“Oh, I saw what you two can do together. I was actually impressed. Well, I mean I always remembered how good you were with explosives when you could get the parts. Remember when we used to build together?” River sighed wistfully.

Junkrat absolutely remembered. If anyone he knew then he could call a best friend it was River. They had a mutual interest and that was all kids needed to catalyze a friendship. But Junkrat couldn’t apply the image of his childhood friend to the person before him. “Yea, never forgot that first cherry bomb I made and then you built that lil detonator. We got caned so hard for that.”

River walked up to Junkrat and opened their arms up for a hug. “I really am glad to see you again.” That was the first words they’d said that sounded sincere.

Junkrat hugged them back, trying to hold in the turmoil of his emotions. The hug brought back more fond memories and felt real. He was still ready for a betrayal, but he had missed River terribly when he was first booted.

When they pulled apart River turned around and motioned for the two men to lower their weapons. “Please take the bodyguard to a bunk so he can sleep off the shock.” They turned back to Junkrat. “Let’s catch up. But I need you to shed this.” They touched the bandolier. “And whatever else you have stowed away. I want to trust you, but I mean you know how it is out here.”

There was no way he could argue. He shed the bandolier for the first time in ages. River laughed at his tan lines and when he emptied his pockets of mines they picked on up and looked it over, complimenting the craftsmanship. When he was disarmed they led him past the men who were now reaching down to try and pick up Roadhog.

He must have looked back too long because River said, “Don’t worry. A friend of yours is a friend of mine.” Junkrat’s stomach dropped and he followed them away from the unconscious Hog.

When he awoke at last, Roadhog felt like he’d been hit by a truck. Maybe several trucks. Every muscle ached with a soreness he had never felt in his life. Even the barest movement was painful. He moved to sit up, but flexing his hand was agony. He lifted it up, jangling the chains he only now saw that bound him here. But his hand was burnt to an absolute crisp. It oozed from large blisters. He looked at the other hand and found the same.

He looked around the room and found it barren except for a tiny bedside table with a single hogdrogen on it. That was his new goal. Fuck whatever was going on, he needed that now. However Roadhog found that even just lifting his arm was difficult. His muscles were twitchy and stiff from the cramping caused by the shock earlier, but he persevered until he could wrap his hand around the capsule.

As he squeezed to grip it, blisters popped from the pressure making him wince and gasp. Sweat was pouring down his forehead from this minor exertion that felt almost impossible. Finally he brought it to his mask and breathed it in. The soreness faded and his hands healed.  
When it was empty he checked himself over again. His hands had reduced to 1st degree burns and his aches felt like a brutal workout instead of immobilizing over exertion. With the distraction of pain eliminated he took stock of his situation again. Room still empty. He sat up. Chains attached to bed. A mistake.

However they must have heard him groaning and grunting trying to get the canister, because an armed man entered the room. The man had Kevlar and a shotgun and kept the hell away from Hog. He stared at the man waiting for him to do something, but nothing happened.

“Where’s my partner?” he growled after twenty odd minutes of staring.

The man glanced at him. “He is in a meeting.”

The answer left him perplexed. What the hell was that supposed to mean? There were some many ways to read between the lines on that one how was he supposed to pick? He was worried. This was bad, real bad. For now all he could do was wait.

An hour passed and the man finally moved. He stepped further into the room, straightening up as an unarmed individual that oozed confidence walked in. Junkrat limped in after them, eyes widening when he saw Roadhog. It was the first time Hog had seen Rat without his grenades and that didn’t help with the worry.

The obvious leader of the group looked at Junkrat and gave an encouraging pat. Rat stepped forward and gave a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Well mate! Thanks for all the work up until now, but uh, you’re fired! I’ve uh, received an offer of employment and I’m gonna take it. So you’ll be escorted out. Get yer bike too. No hard feelings.”

The person beside Rat cleared their throat. “Oh right!” he continued, “This is River. They’s the one hirin’ me on and I forget if I told ya about how I used to scrap, but River and I were mates since I was small. So you understand right?”

Hog blinked at the news. Looking hard into Junkrat’s eyes he could see fear concealed under that veil of goodwill. He just nodded and raised a chained arm. River motioned a man over who undid the restraint, then the other. Standing slowly, he was about to be escorted from the room, when Junkrat hopped forward.

“Oh almost forgot to give you your last payment. Don’t wanna forget that now.” Junkrat reached into his pocket and pulled out one of his gold teeth. It and the little metal pig Roadhog had made back at the junkyard. “If you take this,” he said pressing the tooth hard into Hog’s hand, “and that engine we left behind. You’ll find out that trick up my sleeve I wouldn’t tell ya about.”

Roadhog slowly closed his fist around the two items and turned away. He was escorted to the garage and found his bike ready to go with the door open. At first he wouldn’t touch it, but one of the men caught his drift and placed a hand on it. With that he hopped on and fired it up, heading out of the headquarters and back out into the open desert. Back to the rock they had carved.


	12. A Deal Remembered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short but i felt this ought to be its own chapter

At the rock Hog went and dug up the engine, dusting it off as best he could. His mind was running a mile a minute and it made him jokingly wonder if this was what it was like to be Junkrat. Just thinking about his partner right now though would send a throb of tension through his chest, but he couldn’t stop picturing Junkrat’s eyes, so dull even as he smiled so wide.

Then there was that perplexing cryptic message. Hog pulled out the tooth and the pig. He hadn’t realized that Rat had actually bothered to keep the little sculpture. Usually things that go into those pockets get used for parts right quick. Setting it aside, the real curiosity here was the tooth. Looking at it closely he could see the base was a tiny screw, which explained how he got it out without a mess of blood.

The words Junkrat said echoed to him. The only thing Junkrat ever openly hid from him was how he got the engine to work. Outside of the Outback, before the omnium meltdown floating cars were common and gas powered vehicles were for the nostalgic or stubborn. But hover cars ran on power that only a city could provide. Leaving Junkertown with only with gas powered vehicles.

Examining the engine closely, he wondered how Junkrat expected him to solve this puzzle. Though he knew his way around an engine there wasn’t exactly a spot the screamed Insert Tooth Here. Searching it over, he went to turn it around, tooth in hand, and the engine revved to life. Surprised, Roadhog jerked back and the engine died again. His eyes slid over to the gold tooth in his palm.

Slowly, he pressed the tooth to the engine and it started again. “Holy shit,” he muttered to himself, pulling the tooth back again. Lifting up his mask, he brought the tooth close to his eyes. Upon closer inspection he could see that the gold only on the exterior. As carefully as his massive fingers would allow, he tugged at the screw and the tooth. Slowly the two pieces separated.

What was left was a gold tooth shaped cap and an absolutely tiny piece of machinery sitting atop the head of the screw. He had no idea what it was but on its exterior was the unmistakable logo of the Omnica corporation. He slid the cap back on and held the tooth tightly in his hand. Junkrat had remembered their deal. 

Closing his eyes hard, Roadhog sat there willing himself to be overjoyed at this stroke of luck. He had what he had been working towards and Junkrat had handed it to him no fight, neatly removed from the picture. It was even more than he could have imagined. Technology like this was incredibly valuable. A battery that so small it could be hidden anywhere and power a hover engine with just a touch? Shit who knew if that was even its limit, if it was omnic tech it could probably do more.

But as much as he wanted to just hop on his bike and leave, to escape this hell hole, his thoughts kept coming back to Junkrat’s face. From his pocket he pulled out the pig again. Was it supposed to be some unspoken farewell? Something more than the curt verbal pink slip he’d recited in front of River?

As much as he struggled against it, the decision was already made. He had to go back for Junkrat.

Back at the headquarters, Junkrat was seated in a lounge chair in a room that was luxurious by junker standards. River sat across from him, smiling as they pulled apart one of Junkrat’s grenades. He didn’t know how he had managed to keep his cool while he had gone through the act of firing Roadhog. He had pinned so many hopes of what they’d do in the future. Places they’d go, things they’d blow up. Got ahead of himself he supposed.

“Jamie listen I know I forced your hand on this, but it really just– it means a lot to me.”

Junkrat looked up from under his thick brows at River. They were so unsettling. When he’d been brought here initially they really did talk about their lives, catching up and it felt almost natural, but then there would be this hungry look in their eye and they’d say something that would make Junkrat want to run screaming. If he had to describe it it was like a suit and a junker had fused into one nightmare creature. Lips spilling half–truths with all the ambition of both halves.

“You’re going to live comfortably and I mean,” they snickered, “Did you really enjoy hanging out with that mute beast of a man? I know you Jamie, you need someone to talk to.”

Junkrat went visibly tense. His head throbbed with the rush of anger. “Let’s not talk about him, then.” He clasped his hands together stiffly, and smiled at River. “I did miss talkin’ with you River. I hope I can help you.” 

“Oh I know you will! Between the two of us you’ll see, we’re going to make something of this hell hole. And it starts here.” River got up and walked over to him, gripping his shoulder. “You’re going to build a bomb. And it’s going to be powered by this.” They pulled out the gold tooth he’d given them. They smiled in that terrifying, hungry way again. Junkrat bit his tongue, feeling it sink into the two opposite gaps where his false teeth had once been.

“Well mate, it’s what ya hired me on for,” he agreed. With that River led him to the prison he’d be calling home until they’d gotten everything they wanted out of him.


	13. Not Going Anywhere

Even on a motorcycle, the Outback couldn’t be crossed in a day. He was headed east toward the civilized portion of Oz. He had over 1,600 clicks to cover and couldn’t go in a straight line either. He had to stop and get supplies, go out of his way to hit up outposts along the way. It easily doubled how long his trip had to be. A week later he finally arrived at his destination.

On the outskirts of civilization, protected by modern security and armaments, sat a building every junker knew of. If you were a mercenary or just desperate, this place could employ you. It was one of a handful along this border. Various unnamed companies taking advantage of the situation the junkers were trapped in. He had worked for this place a couple times in exchange for goods that could only be gotten outside the GAFA.

He drove up and was greeted by guards that looked him over, muttered into a radio, then opened the gates. Hog parked the bike in the small lot set into the ground under the building. He knew his way to the receptionist’s office already, but took his time getting there.

Being in this place was like stepping into another world. Cool air and squeaky clean floors. As he made his way in each step left a trail of dust and dirt. He lifted his mask and breathed in deep, finding that the air here was just as fresh as inside his mask. Even so, he slipped it back down to keep himself looking as intimidating as possible.

The receptionist paled when she saw him walk up, but to her credit she didin’t look away. “Have you worked for us before, sir?” He nodded. She tapped the keyboard and readied her hands over it. “Name?”

“Roadhog. No space.”

She nodded and typed it in. Her eyes scanned over the screen and he saw her wince ever so slightly at what she read. “You can go up in fifteen. Please take a seat Mr. Roadhog.”

Hog turned and went to wait in the row of seats provided. He easily took up two of them. Experience told him that there was no one in there before him, the waiting was just to try and play mind games. The time passed quickly and he was summoned by the receptionist. Making his way upstairs to the office, he mentally rehearsed how he was going to ask for this.

He knocked on the oak double doors, trying not to chip the varnish. “Come in!” the woman inside called. Roadhog pushed through and nodded at the older woman sitting behind a heavy, wide desk. She rose to greet him smoothly like every suit he’d ever known had.

“Hello again Turner,” he said. She offered her hand to shake, but he shook his head and showed her his dirty palm. There was a certain amount of civility you had to use with suits if you wanted to get on their good sides. It made them feel like they were helping out someone who was tragically stuck in Junkertown and not having to wrangle a feral creature.

“Welcome back Roadhog.” She offered him a seat and went back behind her desk. He looked at the comically small chair and decided to stand. “Looking for some work?” she continued, “What are you looking to trade for?”

Shaking his head, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the tooth, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. “This time I got something you want. It’s omnic tech.” He stepped up and set down the tooth. At first she just looked between him and the tooth with dismay and confusion. “Pull it apart.”

She took it, head cocked to the side and tugged the battery from the gold casing. Her eyebrows started to fly up, but she reeled them in to try and play it cool. “Well yes this is from Omnica, but it’s not really anything special–“

Roadhog slammed his palm down on the table, leaving dents where the rings of his brass knuckles made impact. “I know perfectly fucking well what it is Turner.”

Stiff as a board from the sudden anger that erupted from Hog, Turner licker her lips and swallowed. “Yes, well okay. So what do you want for it?” Though she was scared shitless her eyes still burned with greed.

Dragging his hand back, Hog took a breath. “I want to take you to another one of those. If you provide the man power, I can take them to where a second one is.”

Turner stared at him, expressionless. The cogs in her head were turning. “Why would you want to simply offer us this charity? What kind of place is it that has this other one?”

“A gang has it. And they have my partner. You provide the means to do the extraction and you eradicate them all. That’s what you’re going to trade for two of these,” he said pointing to the battery in her hand.

She smiled a brilliant, perfect suit smile and nodded enthusiastically. It’ll take some time to get the men together, but that sounds most amenable. Come back in a month and I’ll have your team.”

Day one of living at the Hangmen headquarters was mostly River showing him around, showing off how the upgrades they’d given the building worked. Junkrat was impressed and if he weren’t mourning his freedom, he probably would have been enjoying it. They showed him how the door they and their men had been behind would slide away if pressed on. And now that the place wasn’t under assault there were more people than he could count going about their day. It was honestly the most organized place he’d ever seen. Everyone straightened up when River went by.

After dinner, which was an average ration, Junkrat was brought back to his room. Turning to River, he stared at them hard. “You talked a lot about the shit ye built today mate but how the hell are ya keeping this lot in line? I aint’ seen even one brawl today!”

River smiled. “It’s really quite similar to that little Total Mayhem thing you made. If I die, they die. All of them. And if I want to I can execute them.” They pulled up their shirt, showing a multitude of scars weaving up their torso and embedded just under their ribs was a piece of tech with wires emerging from it only to weaving back into their flesh.

“We’re going to get you your collar tomorrow!” they said cheerfully.

Junkrat’s eyes went wide as his mind flipped through flashes of people he remembered seeing had things around their necks. Before River could shut the door, Junkrat slammed his fist into their nose, then his peg leg into their gut. While they were doubled over, dripping blood, he pushed past and started to run. The first men he passed were caught off guard as he blew by.

His body screamed with exertion. If he could just get to the garage, he could hotwire a bike and get the hell out of here. But the men he’d gone by sent out the alarm and he didn’t get far. One tackled him, slamming him to the ground. They were holding tight to his legs, but he pulled his prosthetic free and kicked their face until they released. It was enough of a delay for more of these other damned souls to come out of the woodwork and hold down his writhing form.

River came walking up slowly, their nose bleeding freely, leaving a trail of drips behind them. Junkrat struggled harder against the hands holding him down, afraid of what would come next.

“It’s okay Jamie. I’ll forgive you,” they said, wiping away some of the blood from their nose. Before he could say anything back a boot slammed hard into his face, crunching his nose under it. The boot came again, this time catching the side of his head. Tears were streaming involuntarily down his face as he tried to swallow his whimpers of pain.

Crouching beside him, River was out of breath, eyes burning with just barely restrained rage. “See? Now we’re even. But now I’m worried you might try to leave again, so as a precaution–“

Their words were jumbled and didn’t process over the distracting pain that was consuming his skull, but when he felt hands on the place where his leg locked into place, he thrashed weakly. “You son of a bitch, you sick fuck, I’ll kill you! I’ll blow you to pieces–“ his rant was cut short by a hard flick on his broken nose.

“Oh I know you would Jamie. That’s why we’re going to give you your collar tomorrow.“ River patted his head as they unhooked his peg leg. “You’ll get this back for work later. Don’t worry. Take him to his room.”

Two people took hold of his arms and lifted him off the ground, letting his one foot drag behind him. He looked down half empty leg of his shorts, feeling more vulnerable than he had been in years. He hadn’t always had a prosthetic, but he’d become dependent on it. They set him on his bed and left, locking the door. Tears kept streaming, mixing the spattered blood across his face. Angrily wiping them away, Rat threw a fit, kicking his good leg to knock his bedside table to the ground, pounding on the walls with his fist and screaming like an animal. He raged until his throat was raw and limbs quaking with pain and exhaustion from beating on every surface he could reach.

Breathing hard through his mouth, dripping with sweat, blood and snot. He grabbed his nose and yanked hard to set it. He screamed again at the spike of pain that renewed the pulsing ache in his head. Junkrat lay back on his bed, trembling with impotent anger.

The next day he was dragged kicking and screaming down the hall to a room where River awaited. They said nothing in response to Junkrat’s insults and threats, only smiling as they fitted his neck with a light collar and sealed it into place. They looked into his eyes, head held in place by a hand fisting his hair in a tight grip. River’s expression softened and they smoothed their hand over the swollen side of Rat’s face. He spat on them, screaming obscenities, but they just laughed like he was a disobedient child and flicked his nose again.

The next couple of days dragged on in a new level of boredom he’d never experienced before. He wasn’t let out of his room and was delivered his meals by one of the many other prisoners here. And without his leg he couldn’t even pace. The swelling on his face slowly went down, but no one offered any ice to help it or any disinfectant for the split that went over the bridge. He was left to care for it himself, rinsing it with the water the little sink in his private restroom provided.

To relieve his boredom he took to tearing apart the furniture in his room, harvesting nails, screws and any other bits and bobs he could find. He fingers were left raw and the undersides of his nails spit open, but there was a satisfaction to it. It felt like progress.


	14. Friends Forever

His confinement ended after three days. When River finally returned they looked around the utterly trashed room and frowned.

“You didn’t even have that much furniture yet look at the mess you’ve made. Well. I’m not giving you more.”

Junkrat was absolutely incensed. The only satisfaction he got from seeing them again was the visible bruising across their face from where he’d struck them. Despite his anger he knew he couldn’t pull that stunt again. He’d had to bide his time before and now would again. His survival depended on it.

“You’ll be good for me won’t you Jamie? I was hoping we could start working today.” River reached their arm back towards the door and a guard appeared with his prosthetic. Taking it, River held it out to Junkrat. Sighing, he nodded and held his hands out to accept his leg.

The weight of it in his hands was immediately rewarding and even more so the satisfying click as it locked into place. He stood up, and flexed it, relishing in being whole again. River cleared their throat and turned sharply on their heel out of the room with Junkrat obediently in tow.

He was led to a room stocked with materials he’d only dreamed of getting his hands on. His eyes went wide as he ran his fingers over various labeled tins and drawers. It would be a dream come true if not for the literal noose around his neck. The sound of something being moved made him turn around.

River was pulling out a large board with papers pinned to it. “Before you brought that little piece of tech to me, these were the designs I was working on for the bomb. Honestly none of them were especially viable. They just wouldn’t offer the amount of devastation I was looking for.”

Looking them over, Rat’s mind put the pieces together in his head, offering an idea of what kind of blast, how big, how to improve them. These were huge and River was saying they weren’t big enough?

“Just what are ya looking to blow up, mate?”

There was that cut–throat smile again. “I wanna blow it all to hell Jamie. I want Canberra to burn, starting with the Parliament House. I want those fucks who left us here in this wasteland to see what it’s like to survive the apocalypse.”

They strode to him, cupping his face as they stared deep into his eyes. He desperately wanted to look away but there was only River in front of him. “Don’t you remember talking about this, Jamie? Talking about how we’d get them back someday? For taking our families?” River’s eyes went wet with tears that didn’t spill. They let him go and turned away.  
Closing his eyes, Junkrat could just barely picture his parent’s faces. He did remember those talks. Those first years after the meltdown were so incredibly painful, it was all he and River could do to just whisper what they’d do to the mysterious men beyond the edge of the Outback.

“Of course I fuckin’ remember,” he muttered, grabbing a pencil. tearing down one of River’s designs and flipping it over to start scrawling a concept. “What are you going to do with me once we do this?”

“I’m going to keep you with me.” They said it so fondly. “I need someone around who gets me. It was honestly fate you ended up here Jamie.”

The pencil in his hand creaked with pressure. He was shaking with fear and anger. The prospect of the rest of his life being made a pet was eating him alive. Throwing himself into the design, he scribbled manically.

“You’ve turned into a real cunt River. You’re even worse than Gunner. Worse than a fucking suit. Least suits fuckin’ paid.” He kept drawing, but after a moment his head was violently jerked back by the hair.

“Who do you think you’re talking to like that?” River whispered, one hand wrapping around his head, a slender finger pressing against the outer edge of his eye. “I let your friend go, didn’t I? I didn’t have to. I’m giving you food and a roof over your head. That’s more than anyone’s given us. And it’s just for you Jamie. I’ve been so good to you because you’re my best friend. But if you’re not my friend I can start taking things away.” The finger pressed harder against his eye.

Junkrat laughed weakly, heart hammering in his chest. “Nah mate, s–sorry. Just sore at ya from our lil tiff.”

River relaxed and tousled Junkrat’s hair. “Now what are you even writing, looks like chicken scratch.” They crouched beside him, looking at the messy drawing of shapes orbiting each other with arrows indicating where they fit.

He stared at his work, realizing he had already blanked on what he was doing. The design had left him. Crumpling it up, he tossed it. “No good.”

“I’ll get you some fresh paper then.” When they turned away, Junkrat stuffed the pencil in his pocket and grabbed another one off the small shelf running along the bottom of the corkboard River had brought over.

This was how time passed for the next few weeks. Junkrat and River working on this monstrous bomb of theirs while Junkrat would sneak out small things. He had cut a hole in his mattress and hid everything in there. Slowly but surely he was accumulating a small pile of the necessary materials to create a something that might be able to remove the collar. And bombs. For fun.  
His most ambitious theft was an opportunity that allowed him to get a mouthful of gunpowder. He held it in his mouth, the walk back to his room feeling extra slow thanks to the disgusting texture and scent crawling up his nose. When he finally got back he spat it out onto a piece of torn sheet. He scraped what clung to mouth out with his fingernails. Once it was out he tied it up and hid it away. Despite the headache now assaulting him thanks to the nitro in the powder, he felt like he’d taken a big step forward.

The room the two of them worked in was filled with papers and half built pieces. River couldn’t keep up with Junkrat’s messy process, but didn’t mind at all. If anything, River just felt all the more certain they’d made the right choice taking him, crooning about how brilliant he was.

But without fail, every few days something would happen, Junkrat would make some mistake, some slip of words, or ignoring them too much, that would make them erupt. Most of the time they just held him down and threatened him or would leave him in his room for a day or two. He started to see the pattern in it, able to feel the tension rising in River.

For every sickly sweet moment, there was an equally awful one. One day they’d hug him from behind, clinging to him as if they were still children, muttering about their day while he nodded along. Then another day they’d shove him into the table so hard the corner would draw blood. Their violence was always brief and explosive in a way that left his nerves frayed. The fear and anticipation of the next outburst made him jump at the drop of a pin. Even if the damage done was never anywhere near lethal, it was turning him into an even bigger paranoid mess.

Six weeks in, the bomb was pretty much done. It was only the size of a child’s kickball and looked like a piece of junk. The theory behind it was that battery when triggered would heat the interior, melting what separated the chemicals inside. These chemicals when mixed would trigger the battery to short and explode. If it were a regular battery it would mean nothing, but for one capable of such high energy absorption, that was going to be devastating.

“A little tit for tat,” River called it. “Like a little taste of the meltdown.”

Junkrat was seated on the floor, gnawing on a pencil as River admired his work. “What happens after you do it though? They might come for ya.”

“They might. But they would also have to look at us out here. They’d have to acknowledge us.”

“Why’s that matter? They left us all out here, what’s getting acknowledged gonna do?”

“I went there once. I made it all the way to the real world Jamie. It’s been over a decade since the meltdown and everyone’s already forgotten. Like they know that Junkertown’s out here, but no one knows that we’re trapped out here.”

Junkrat stopped eating his pencil and gaped, little spittle covered shards falling out. “What? You been out of Junkertown? How the hell’d you do it? Between the walk and the beasties its bad enough, then there’s the issue of cash–“

“I know,” they interrupted. “I made a deal with the suits and I got a taste of the life out there.”

“What’d you trade?” he almost screamed, leaning down and in to look up at River’s downcast face. “What the fuck did you have?”

They laughed at his antics. “A strong heart. I sold my heart for all this,” they waved their hands, gesturing at the compound. Even as advanced as meds are now, nothing beats the real deal. So they gave me a synthetic one and I got a crap ton of goods thanks to whoever was buying. And while I was recovering I got to see how they live out there.”

“Shit, I was wondering how you got yourself wired like that.”

River didn’t say anything in response, letting them wallow in silence for a long time. Rat didn’t dare break it, sensing something was amiss. When River finally rose up, he flinched, but no strike came. As soon as they were gone, the usual escorts came and led him back to his room.


	15. Boss

A month. Roadhog understood why he had to wait, it took time to send the word out and for the hires to gather, but it didn’t change that he plagued with needling fears and doubts about if Junkrat was going to be alright for that long. He had so little information about what kind of deal was struck that meant he was let go and Junkrat was stuck there.

Furthermore, had to reconcile the fact that after years of hardening himself to the world, he’d slipped so easily into caring for another person. Rat was annoying, impulsive, and disgusting. And he was funny, clever, and sometimes, downright caring. He had been down for the count, easy pickings for that S.O.B. River to off him, but somehow Junkrat had gotten him off the hook. Sacrificing himself in the process. Hog could only hope that the sacrifice wasn’t too great. Self–sacrifice was a concept that was supposed to have died with the omnium meltdown.

But Rat had been doing it all through that trip to the Hangmen’s compound. And how he had given back the mask. More and more little moments came back. Those last couple of weeks had brought them together incredibly fast. It was just like those first weeks with the A.L.F. The collective drive to accomplish something brought out a camaraderie he had never had before. He could recognize the fire in his belly now as the same one that would come roaring to life when he’d hook an OR14 and drag it away from a fellow liberator.

The only problem is there was no foe to fight, he had to wait. Most of his time ended up being consumed with training. He put the scrap gun to work, testing how fast he could reload it. It was heavy and having to clip and unclip it from his belt was slow. So he cobbled together a holster for it. This helped eat away at the time too.

When he first finished it he was just going to be done with it, but looking at the scrap gun, he reviewed all the little details Rat had added. The now scuffed paintjob, the bit of dangling chain, the spikes added to the butt of the gun. It inspired him to add a little flair to his holster. Why shouldn’t he add a little personalization to his stuff, it wasn’t like he had a lot to his name as it was. He stitched a little ear end to it. Even went so far as to visit the biggest nearby outpost to find a child’s hair clip in the shape of a pig. He jerry-rigged it to act as the fastener.

He was proud of what he’d made. It looked cute and it worked well. If Junkrat were here he’d probably be laughing his guts out over it. But instead there was the usual silence of the Outback. Good god did he actually miss the nonstop earbashing? Maybe some of that little asshole’s madness had rubbed off on him if he was missing hearing those rambling stories around the fire.

When that 30th day finally rolled around, Hog was a scrap slinging machine. He rolled up in that same parking lot and found it full. A beautiful sight to someone who was raring to go. Inside he was greeted by a mess of other junkers, they were all posturing and glaring at each other, sizing one another up in the most civilized way they could. Turner was downstairs for the first time he’d ever seen, standing beside her nervous secretary. He supposed there was no way she was going to let this many stinking, filthy mongrels into her office at once. Seeing him, she waved him over to the front desk.

“Alright everyone, let me explain what you have to do to get paid.” The word paid had everyone’s attention. Giving them all her best smile, she cleared her throat and continued. “You’re all going to be following Roadhog’s lead here. He is the one who made the deal to get all you hired on for this. As you were already told the job is simple. Exterminate the Hangmen and extract the hostage. Obtain the gold tooth.”

Someone raised their hand in the crowd and shouted, “Who da hostage?”

“None of your business,” Roadhog growled before Turner could answer. “You just worry about the killing.”

The crowd erupted in chuckles and murmurs of agreement. Turner glanced at Roadhog with raised brows, clearing her throat. “Yes, well, I know you’re all ready to go so you can head out. But remember that if I don’t get the okay from Roadhog here you don’t get paid, so don’t try and play games here.”

“We’ll bring back their scalps fresh for ya, love!” shouted a burly woman in the back. Everyone started getting riled up at the thought.

“No! No body parts please!” Turner begged, voice going squeaky to try and speak over the group.

Everyone was getting out of hand, so Roadhog went ahead and bellowed, “Let’s ride!” Everyone whooped and hollered, heading for their rides. Hog looked over his shoulder and nodded his head at Turner in a silent goodbye. She seemed relieved to get them all out of here.

Once they were on the road, he looked around at everyone. Dirt bikes, dune buggies, and even a couple choppers were following him through the hot, dry Outback. Not everyone had their own ride, some of them were paired up, either in the back seat of the buggies or riding bitch seat. He looked over at his lonesome sidecar. Others looked at it too; figuring that whoever Roadhog was, the hostage he was after was the rider of that sidecar.

The same woman who’d talked about taking scalps caught up to him on her dirt bike at one point. For a while she just rode beside him silently, but finally she spoke up. “Just wanted to say I ain’t seen someone who was willin’ to go out of their way for a mate in a long time. That’s old world ways o’ being.”

Roadhog looked over at her. This close he could see the grey peppering her otherwise dark hair and how the laugh lines around her mouth cut deep. She continued, “It’s been a long time, Mako.”

His body tensed violently, looking over at that name, almost making him veer into her. She took it in stride and twisted her bike away from him until he steadied. Leaning back in she answered his question before he could ask. “I was in A.L.F. too. Nobody you knew. But no one forgets that tat. I just wanted to ask if the fella you’re getting back is one of us too.”

“No,” he answered after a short pause. He hadn’t thought he was the last member out here, but he never expected to run into another one. There must only be handful of liberators left. “Glad you’re here.”

She laughed and saluted him before falling back into place with the crew.

The ride to the headquarters was twice as grueling as the first, anticipation burning up his thoughts as the day dragged on. The feeling on grew worse when the place was in sight. He wanted to think of some cunning plan to get the jump on these guys, but there was no way to really hide the approach of this many vehicles half of which had perforated mufflers. So a full on charge it was. They rode in hard, Hog hooked the gates and swerved to the side, taking one gate with him. This let the rest push through, firing like mad into the same set up of riflemen on the roof. But they didn’t waste time on the first line of defense on this place.

With as many as they were, a few could lay covering fire while the rest split and made for the doors he and Junkrat had entered, others went for the garage. They were practiced mercs, and as messy as it was they knew how to move in. Roadhog released the gate from his hook and circled to the back of the compound. The sound of gunfire, explosions, and screaming rang out ceaselessly. A good distraction to let him slip in and find Junkrat.

Inside the headquarters, Junkrat was laying in his room tinkering when the alarm sounded. His head perked up and he crawled to the door, pressing an ear to it. The sound of pounding footsteps and shouted orders. Then gunfire. His heart soared. If they were in a panic this could be his chance to get out.

Ever since the completion of the bomb and the talk of River’s heart they’d seemed to fallen into a depression. That had meant more time cooped up in his room, less time with his leg. And the few times River had visited there was a dangerous gleam to their tired, wild eyes. As much as River insisted they’d never get rid of him, Junkrat had been with people who lashed out the way River did. The more stress on them the more likely the next attack would escalate.

He scrambled across the floor to his little stash of creations. All attempts at discovering a way to remove the collar had proved futile. River had done their homework on this one. But he still had his bombs. One in particular he’d built to find a way around the collar problem that would let him get River back for this nightmare. Giggling to himself, he put that one in his pocket and went back to the door with his other bomb in hand. He pressed it to hinges and listened again. When he could hear the gunfire going wild and was certain they were preoccupied, he pushed a button and crawled away as fast as he could.

The heat of the explosion washed over him in a way that made him twitch with pleasure. It had been ages since he got to blow something up. Looking back, he could see the door lying flat on the floor. “Time to go!” he muttered, crawling out into the hallway. He’d gotten pretty fast for someone consigned to the ground.

Roadhog kicked open the back door enthusiastically. Hook in hand, he found a few men still guarding the rear as he expected. Easy pickings. He moved down the hall, stuffing more scrap in his gun, listening to the sound of the fight on the other side. The place was a lot bigger than he’d remembered, but then again he and Rat hadn’t exactly gone exploring. Moving from room to room systematically, he found them mostly empty. One path he followed led him to a brig with one man in it.

The man looked up at him and begged to be let out. Hog just looked at the other cells, found them empty, and walked out. Fear tugged at his mind, whispering that Junkrat might already be dead. He was a survivor, but he was hot headed. One wrong move and maybe he’d gotten himself killed. Shaking away those thoughts he kept moving. They must have decided to keep his partner in something more private, maybe even soundproof. Lord knows he would have if his prisoner was prone to yabbering how Rat was.

Junkrat kept moving for the garage. He needed a ride to get out of here even if the sound of a fight was coming from there. He’d hug the walls and turn corners to avoid Hangmen running by. His body burned with the effort of moving like this. It was unnatural and more difficult than running. It also hurt his stump. But the pain was nothing compared to the fear of what River might do if they found him out like this. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, playing the part of pet to them had made him terrified of their wrath.

Even as he reflected on how the lump on the back of his head from their last outburst still hurt, his fears were realized. A panting and wide eyed River stepped out from another of their hidden doors. Their hair hung loose around their face, messy and wild, making them look feral instead of their usual un–junker–like neatness. Junkrat spun around and started crawling for his life in the other direction hoping River hadn’t seen him. The steady footsteps behind him said otherwise.

A boot came down on his back hard, forcing him to the ground. Junkrat screamed.

Roadhog froze and listened.

“You sick fuck lemme go! Get offa me!” Junkrat twisted under River’s heel, flipping over and using his good leg to kick them hard in the side of the knee. They buckled and he scrambled out from under their foot, trying to put enough distance between them to get a moment and grab his bomb.

He took off running hearing his partner’s voice. His heart thumped so loud it almost drowned out the sound of the fight just beyond them.

River didn’t let him get far. They grabbed Junkrat by the arm and twisted it painfully behind him. “Where do you think you’re going?” they screamed, hauling him up to his foot by that arm, making him yelp in pain. “You think I’ll let you go?” Rat breathed hard and struggled against River’s hard grip. Their nails dug in so deep he could feel the skin starting to give way to them.

Roadhog turned the corner, panting hard through his mask. At the end of the hall stood a cringing Junkrat and wild eyed River. “Take your hands off him!” he shouted, leveling the scrap gun at them.

The pair looked up. River sneered at the threat and wrapped a hand around Junkrat’s neck. “Would you look at that. The fat one’s back.”

Junkrat stared disbelievingly. His stomach did a flip when he realized Roadhog had come back for him. Even though Hog had that bit of treasure, had everything he needed to just move on to the next part of his life, he’d come back. Honestly the thought of it had crossed Rat’s mind, but it had been little more than a brief fantasy to ease his incarceration.

“H–hog!” he choked out, grinning wider than he had since ending up here. River squeezed his throat with their fingertips to shut him up.

“Put your weapon down, you wouldn’t wanna hurt us now would you?” The hand dragged down Rat’s neck leaving red scratches. At the collar, they ran a finger over it, making Roadhog look at it. “Wouldn’t want his head to come off, would you? Why don’t you tell him about it Jamie?”

Swallowing hard against the pressure on his throat, Junkrat’s left hand started to creep across himself. He looked Roadhog in the eyes, willing the man not to give him away. “The collar’s got explosives. If it gets hit it’ll go off. If River gets killed it goes off. So don’t shoot mate.”

Roadhog’s hidden eyes flicked to Junkart’s wandering hand, but he didn’t react otherwise. The kid was up to something. And he was gonna help. “Maybe I don’t believe that,” he said, taking a step forward. “You look about as smart as a pile of shit River. Sounds too clever.”

River took the bait and jostled Rat, twisting his right arm harder. “That’s rich coming from you, fat ass. What did you think all those little booms are? Those are collars going off.” They smirked and pressed their face against Junkrat’s. “He’s mine now, sorry! You did a shit job being a bodyguard and now Jamie’s all mine.”

Junkrat finally managed to slip his hand into his right pocket and grabbed the bomb. Uncapping it, he jammed it into River’s thigh and pressed the trigger. A muted thump sounded followed by River’s aborted scream. The two of the fell to the floor, but Rat rolled away as they reached down to clutch at their severed leg. Roadhog stared at the bloodless scene. Whatever his partner had engineered had cauterized the leg in an instant.

Junkrat used a wall to help himself up to stand and look down at his captor. River was gasping out moans of pain. He wished he had his other leg right now so he could get a couple good kicks in right now. “What you don’t like that mate? Does it hurt?” He made the most vile sound as he worked at hocking the fattest loogey he could muster.

Roadhog walked up as Rat spat on River. A heavy hand gently gripped Junkrat’s shoulder, making him turn around. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Rat looked up at that expressionless mask and smiled brilliantly. “No time for a kiss and cry mate, hold this drongo down for me.” That made Roadhog blink and blush lightly. He tried to shake off the feeling by unfurling the curled up mess on the floor and pin their arms down.

Flopping down to the floor, Junkrat slid up next to River who was trying to yank their arms out of Roadhog’s grip. He pushed up River’s shirt revealing the source of what had trapped him here. Junkrat stared, tapping at wires and metal bits with interest. Hog on the other hand was mostly confused by why this pacemaker looked like such shit.

“You can’t defuse it from there,” River coughed out. “You’re going to have that on you forever.” Despite their ragged breathing and obvious pain, they still seemed confident.

Junkrat scratched his chin thoughtfully and looked at Roadhog. “You know how to torture a bloke? Proper like I mean.”

He cocked his head at the question. “No, but I think one of the guys I brought does.”

“Well lucky us!” Junkrat chimed, leaning over River’s face uncomfortable close. “It’s real easy to hurt someone without killin’ them mate. I mean look at yer leg. We could take it slow. Work the rest o’ the way up your other one. Even you out.”

“I– I’d still never tell. What’s the point if you’ll just kill me once I do?”

Then Rat put on a face Roadhog had never seen on him before. It was downright sympathetic, loving even. “River, mate, I just want to go. You knew all along right? That I didn’t want to be here. I never wanted to hurt you but you were goin’ to keep me locked up in that little room. Let me go and I’ll let you go ok?” Rat took his hand and caressed River’s face, wiping the tears from their eyes.

“What do you say, love? Just undo this thing and you can go back to your little bomb and blow Canberra to hell. Me and Hog will ride away. I could never kill me best mate.”

River’s eyes were closed and lips pursed. They seemed to shudder under Junkrat’s gentle touch. “Okay,” they breathed. “Take us to my office.”

With a motion to pull him up, Roadhog lifted River but made sure not to let his arms be free the way they’d messed up with Junkrat. They tried to walk but it was too painful so Hog just carried them upright, arms locked to their sides. He would rather have been helping Junkrat move, but Rat insisted he was fine crawling. “I’ve gotten real good at it,” he commented with the barest hint of bitterness.

Once they’d arrived River directed them to their desk. With their instruction they uncovered another secret panel and got it open. Inside was a device that Junkrat recognized as the same one that had sealed his collar.

“Sometimes they need to be resized or repaired so it demags the lock,” they explained. Rat, who was on his knees peering into the drawer slammed one fist into his open palm.

“Magnets, of course! Too risky to fiddle with.” He went on a bit about something as he took the device and turned it over, inspecting it. With more instruction he held it to his collar and with a click it fell away. Rat would have jumped for joy if he could. The skin under it was irritated and wrinkled from excess moisture build up.

River looked to him with a small smile. “I guess this will be to remember you by then,” they said gesturing at their missing leg.

“You a fucking idiot, mate?” Junkrat asked with a blank expression. River blinked and opened their mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a stiff punch. “Go ahead and drop them for me Hoggie. I got business.”

Roadhog stepped back, letting River slump to the ground, tears running down their face. They tried to ask why, but Rat was on them too fast. Watching the beat down with mild amusement, Hog sat on the edge of the table and waited Junkrat out. Blood spattered against the hem of his pants on the final blow.

Rat sat up, panting and staring down at the mess of a face he’d made. “You want a go?” he asked Roadhog.

“Nah, I’m good. Boss.” He didn’t know why he tacked that on, but the way Junkrat’s face lit up was probably it. Hog savored the way he laughed and smacked his thigh until he ran out of breath again. Just when he had enough air to try and speak, Hog said it again. “Boss.” It put Rat out again, laughing even harder than before, doubled over the very unconscious River.

“Yer killin’ me here. What’s gotten into ya?”

“It’s just good to see you again. Thought you might be dead. Plus you looked so serious I just couldn’t take it.” Under his mask Roadhog was grinning to himself.

“And here I thought you said no one was the boss of you.”

“You’re still not my boss. But I think it’s a better nickname than Jamie.”

Junkrat was busting up again, nodding. “That’s what they called me as an anklebiter. Me name from when the world wasn’t burnt up was Jamison. Jamison Fawkes.”

There was a long pause before Roadhog reached out and offered his hand to Junkrat who took it with a look of curiosity. Shaking it, he said, “Nice to meet you Jamie. I’m Mako Rutledge.” Another pause and then they were both laughing hard.

“I hope you don’t expect me to call you that,” Junkrat said, pulling himself up off of River.

Roadhog helped him, pulling Rat up onto the desk next to him. “Not if you don’t make me call you Jamie.”

“If you do you’ll look like that last guy who called me that.” He punched Roadhog’s shoulder playfully and the both chuckled again.

“So what we do with them now?” Roadhog asked.

“Sounds like there’s still a fight happenin’. Why don’t we make it easy on your pals out there. Just off this one and they all go down.“

Nodding, Roadhog pulled out his scrap gun and made mince meat of River’s pulverized head. The room exploded, knocking them both to the ground and the smoke sent Rat into a coughing fit. “Shit I forgot mine was right there.”

“Me too.” There was a pause, but then they laughed.


	16. Let's Bail

The sound of fighting ceased, as expected. River’s Hangmen were no more. They headed for the workshop. At first Junkrat insisted that he try and get there on his own, but when Roadhog scooped him up like he was nothing, he stopped arguing. In the workshop they found a couple of the mercs eyeing the various contraptions and raiding the goods inside.

“Get out,” Roadhog rumbled. The men blinked at him then looked at Junkrat.

“Is that the guy you came looking for? Shit they take his leg?”

“Nah mate the leg was gone long ‘fore,” Rat answered. “Don’t fuck with those things there though. Don’t wanna end up like this too now do ya?” He wiggled his stump at them and they both got the hell away from the bomb and its prototypes.

Once they slipped out of the room, Roadhog reluctantly set Junkrat down. Rat hopped over to a counter and opened up the cabinet, pulling out his leg where River would put it away before sending him back to his room. He sat down on the ground and worked at getting it hooked up again. Hog squatted and stared at the naked leg. He’d seen plenty of amputated limbs before, but this one was something. It was obvious that it was no pro job. The flesh around the end of the stump was hard with callus and scar tissue. He could almost see the knots in the muscle, built up from a lack of rehabilitation and stress.

Rat tugged the leg up, letting the socket slide over the residual limb. Grabbing the belt that hung off it he wrapped it around and tightened it until it felt snug. He waited a moment then flexed, watching the knee react properly. Between having his leg back, Hog here with him, and River blown to bits, everything felt right again. Relief flooded him so suddenly he could feel his eyes sting with tears, but he blinked them back.

“Honestly. I can’t believe ye came back. I thought you’d have taken off with the treasure and be done with it.”

“I tried to. But I’m not good at leaving friends behind.”

Junkrat’s heart started working double time hearing that. Smiling meekly, he stood up and stretched. “Well thanks mate. Really saved my hide. You even figure out what that thing does?”

“Yea. Traded it to a suit on the border to hire these goons that busted in here. Actually I got to talk to you about that–“

Before he could go on, Junkrat was on him, hands gripping his shoulders tight. “You traded it to save my ass? You’re kidding me, Hog. I ain’t worth even a fraction o’ that thing.” He pressed his face to the mask, peering through the eyeholes. “Did you really?”

Roadhog felt captured by the sudden closeness. The way those amber eyes searched his even with glass between them made it feel intimate despite the physical barrier between them. “I did. It was worth it. I know you saved my skin in exchange for yours. Wasn’t right to leave you here.” He carefully pushed Rat off of him.

“But the deal was to give the suit your half of the treasure too. If there is one.”

He paused hearing that, licking his lips as he thought. Turning to the bomb, he grabbed it and turned it over in his hands. “They had me build this with the other one. I could take it out, but I kind of wanted to follow through with the big plan. Sounded like it’d be a pretty boom.”

Hog grunted questioningly. So Junkrat continued, “This thing could send most of Canberra back to the stone age.” The excitement was evident on his face. He was practically drooling– no wait, wait , he is drooling.

With a heavy sigh, Roadhog got up and set a hand on the bomb, waking Rat from his daydreams. “You don’t want that. It won’t feel how you think it will. Just trust me on this one.” Looking up at him with interest, those big eyes were cutting through him again. He expected more protest, but Rat took it in stride.

“I trust ya mate. Just gimme a second to dig it out.” He limped away toward some tools and started disassembling the thing. The word trust was rattling around in both their minds. But the subsequent feeling was a warm one. When he dug it out, Rat was reluctant to give it over. Roadhog was certain that in any other situation Junkrat would be screaming and clawing at him for daring to barter off his half of the treasure.

From deeper in the compound there was an eruption of noise. It steadily drew closer until a short junker ran in and declared proudly, “I found the tooth for Turner!” He held up the empty gold socket that had been used to store the battery. Staring in silence at the junker, a devious plan nestled in Roadhog’s brain. He gave the guy a thumbs up, which was taken as approval that this was the right item.

The crowd hurried past, heading outside to prep their departure. Junkrat turned and looked at Hog who hurried over to him. “The suit fucking told them they were after a tooth and not the tech. Let’s bail.” Processing that for a moment, Junkrat started shaking, then bouncing excitedly.

“I’ll be gobsmacked, lady luck’s with us ain’t she!”

Turning and running for the backdoor, Hog led them to where he’d left the motorcycle. It was all Rat could do not to outright cackle at this little escape. At the sight of their ride Junkrat pulled ahead and launched himself into his sidecar, jittery with glee. When Roadhog hopped into his side it threw Rat up in the air as the bike suddenly sunk beneath him. His laughter was drowned out by the bike being started and thrown into gear. With a roar they road off in the opposite direction of the mercs.

Once the place was out of sight, Roadhog dug through his pocket and pulled out the hollow gold tooth that had been returned to him by Turner. He handed it to Junkrat who happily slid the battery back into it and screwed it back into his mouth. They drove like this for a while, no destination in mind. Junkrat basking in the sun he’d been denied for two months and reacquainting himself with the launcher and bombs that had been left behind in the sidecar when he was taken.

All the tension that had built up in Roadhog slipped away in these couple of hours of aimless driving. Rat chattered away to himself and the wind whipped at his ponytail. This feeling of calm and wholeness was one he had rarely, so he took it in for as long as he could.

They made camp early that night. Junkrat regaled him with what his time with the Hangmen had been like. Only Rat could make a tale of imprisonment so amusing. When he ran out of story to tell he collapsed in the dirt, huddled as close to the fire as he dared. Roadhog lay back too, equally exhausted by the day. Their comfortable silence slipped into placid sleep.


	17. Chase Him Down

Roadhog woke before Junkrat, which was unusual. But then again he’d said that the room he was kept in was windowless. It would be easy to lose track of how long you slept over the course of two months. Hog let him sleep and took the opportunity to look him over. He was bruised in several places and his nose was different. The bridge was wider and it was slightly crooked over all now. At least the bags under his eyes had faded. He was a lot cleaner than before too.

Without all that grime the dazzle of freckles across his face popped against his pale skin. His sunburn had healed too; leaving larger, darker freckles across his shoulders and back. Thoughts of how Rat had accepted his word on not to burn Canberra to the ground came back as did the reveal that he had a life before the meltdown. Apparently River had too and that the bomb was meant to get revenge.

The fact that the Australian Liberation Front had been the cause of the Outback’s destruction was a well kept secret. Granted not out of any significant effort, but the fact was no one knew what hit them when the omnium exploded. One moment they were just rebellious nobodies out in the bush, the next they were victims of the apocalypse. The few remaining members of his group weren’t exactly keen to announce that they’d annihilated the home they’d been trying to take back.

He imagined what Junkrat looked like as a child. As Jamie Fawkes who had a family and a home. Maybe not much of one out here, but something more than dirt and scrap. He remembered a home he called his own, having a bar he’d frequent, the friends he would ride with. Rising, he went to the bike and grabbed a canteen of water. Tears of regret were falling fast. One heavy hand pulled off his mask, letting the polluted air sting his lungs. Roadhog let them fall, tracing the weathered lines of his face. When his eyes stopped stinging, he splashed his face with water and scrubbed it down violently to rub the feeling away.

That day he had become a killer. A mass murderer. And he killed many more since then. From the shattered pieces of Mako he had built Roadhog. And right now Roadhog needed to keep his shit together. Hyping himself up, Hog rolled his shoulders and flexed in rapid succession before slamming the canteen into his forehead and crushing it. He grabbed his mask and strapped it back on.

The sound of crunching earth by his head had Junkrat’s eyes flying open. He watched Hog’s boot heels turn on him and he walked to the bike. Feeling still tired and rather secure with his bodyguard there, he let himself bask in wakefulness. However when the mask came off and he saw his partner crying, he froze. He stared at them as the rolled so freely. Rat hated crying, he hated that he was physically capable of the act and yet Roadhog squatted there letting them come. Junkrat was struck again by how different Hog was compared to him. How much he both envied and enjoyed the difference. He never thought he could watch someone cry and think that they looked strong doing it. When Hog moved again though he shut his eyes and pretended to sleep. He didn’t want to embarrass him by letting him know he’d seen him at it.

Hog did a few things before Junkrat got up. When the smaller man creeped over to see what he was up to, he turned and offered a homemade dry ration. Rat gobbled it but frowned over the fact that there wasn’t meat in it.

“Why’s there no jerky in it? I thought ye liked jerky too?”

Roadhog shook his head. “I avoid meat when I can.”

There was a silence so he looked over and found Rat staring at him. “That’s madness! How the hell you stay big without any meat?” He scuttled over and pinched Hog’s arms. “How! It’s impossible!”

“All natural.” Shooing him off, he could understand the reaction. Being picky wasn’t a good idea out here. But he still had his preference and was fortunate enough to be able to stick by it.

Rat squinted at him doubtfully, but laid off in favor of tearing into his bag of scrap. He was talking mechanics again, so Hog tuned him out. It was a pleasant background noise while he gave the bike a once over. He’d rode it hard both ways, and while she was sturdy he didn’t want to chance busting something that he could have caught ahead of time.

The morning whiled away like this for a bit, but was interrupted by Rat suddenly hollering. “Mate! You didn’t show me this!” Hog turned around and saw him holding out his scrap gun in its holster. “I can’t believe you done gave it it’s own tote! It’s right adorable.”

He gave a short chuckle and nodded. He’d known Rat would like it. Pulling it out of the holster, Rat looked it over with interest. It was the look he got when he wanted to tinker but wasn’t sure what he was going to do quite yet.

“How well we stocked?” he asked suddenly.

Scratching at his chin, Roadhog considered the question and made a so–so gesture.

“That suit’s not gonna be pleased with the lil trick we’ve played. What ya say to laying low in a place with a junkpile? I’s got some ideas built up from my stint in confinement.” He pulled out a couple papers wrapped around a pencil he had stashed too the time from before. He scribbled something down and tucked it away. “I ought get some more paper too. ‘S a right good idea considering how easy things slip for me.”

“Sounds good.”

They found a good–sized town and settled in. They arrived in the night and hid their most obvious features. Junkrat in his usual disguise and Hog threw on an ancient shirt with the sides cut out of it. They stashed their ride in one of a few abandoned, rickety shacks. For the next couple of days Rat and Hog supped it up, patching the rusted out parts and making the door secure. It was incredibly cramped, but most of their time was spent outdoors anyways.

As soon as the place was liveable, Junkrat was immediately consumed with tinkering. He confiscated the scrap gun and vanished into the junkyard from sunrise to sundown. When he’d get back he’d go straight to sleep without so much as a goodnight.

Roadhog wondered how the gangly junker expected to survive for very long on the few tokens they had. At first he was annoyed by how the kid had basically up and ditched him. In retribution he opted to just let him be as punishment. Let that idiot forget to eat or get burned if he was just going to drag them here and expect Hog to just take care of the rest while he played with his bits and bobs.

Roadhog spent a couple days rereading his books, lounging in the shade of their shack. He went through the last of their rations before finally heading out to see what town was like. It was pretty standard. The main street consisted of the two most important parts of any outpost. The bar and the scrap dealers. Surrounding it was a smattering of little street side shops offering trade for skills and goods that the folk living here had.

From the corner of his eye he saw a familiar limping gait head into the scrap dealer’s shop. Roadhog headed over, eyes locked to the window. It was Junkrat alright. From his back he unloaded a hefty sack. Hog stood by the window and watched his partner pull piece after piece of scrap out, each one scrubbed down so it looked as shiny as one could get it. He bartered with the dealer, standing up straight and leaning against the counter casually. He was working what few advantages he had to create a balance between friendly and intimidating with the dealer.

The scrap dealer noticed him in the window and kept glancing up, frowning. Hog knew he ought to move along, but he just wanted to watch Rat like this a little longer. He was interested by how the kid moved and acted in this situation. It was a different persona than how Hog saw him. Eventually Rat saw the glances the dealer kept throwing and looked out the window too. Roadhog pulled back out of sight, hoping he’d managed to dodge the kid’s eyes.  
Junkrat stared at the window for a bit, wondering why Hog was hiding from him. The big guy wasn’t exactly the sneakiest person. He could even still see the swell of his gut from this angle. It was hard not to break out laughing. A lingering smirk stayed with him as he rushed to finish his barter. Taking the tokens and tire he’d traded for, Rat dashed outside, looking for Roadhog. He wasn’t by the window anymore, but the big guy couldn’t have gone far.

A quick survey of the area around the shop revealed a familiar little ponytail bouncing just above the canvas tops of the small bazaar. Tugging the tire up a bit farther over his shoulder, Rat galloped after him. The uneven sound of his boot falls reached Hog’s ears just in time to for him to turnaround and have Rat barrel into him. The air rushed out of him as the tire and all bounced off his stomach and onto the floor. Rat laughed giddily at the circumstance, thrashing his thin limbs as he tried to get back up again with the tire still weighing him down.

Roadhog reached down and pulled his friend up by the tire. Rat hung onto it and grinned as his feet left the ground. He curled up, hanging there looking as mischievous as a magpie.

“I saw you spyin’ Roadie. Finally come to check up on me?” He grinned like a shot fox over having caught the big guy.

That crooked grin and bright amber gaze had Hog absolutely burning. He had no idea when he’d gotten so fond of that smile. With his other hand he gripped Rat by the head and separated him from his tire before setting him down. Shouldering the tire, Roadhog gestured for Rat to come along, which he did enthusiastically. They walked through the few little stands and for a moment Rat vanished only to return with a handful of deep black conkerberries. They shared them as they walked.

“It’s been a dog’s age since I had somethin’ sweet I tell ya,” he gushed. “When I was an anklebiter in me old house I was always beggin’ for sweets. Not pure sugar mind you, but a lil caramel never hurt. When I did a turn or two with suits I’d always get them to throw in some candy with me barter. Can’t believe they got such good food out there. If I wasn’t a junker I’d have filled in me height right quick. Probably be as big as a house by now.” He laughed and elbowed Hog playfully over the image. It was hard to imagine Rat ever being more than wirey.

They went to the junkyard and he saw the piles of organized scrap, half built little things, an underground storage unit Rat had rigged for the good stuff. Hog felt guilty for assuming that Junkrat was being flippant about their situation. Rat had been scrapping his ass off this whole time. Apparently most of it was going for getting the parts he needed.

“And what you been up to, mate?”

Scratching his head embarrassedly, Hog muttered, “Reading.”

“I don’t know how you do it. Tiny words goin’ on and on. Makes the inside of me skull itch.” He pulled out his tools and started gouging holes into the tire methodically. Watching him, Roadhog concluded that Rat only knew one working pace and it was all out. Even though there was no urgency he was working as hard as he had when they’d been trapped in the other town by the Hangmen. Somehow the desperate, full speed way he worked seemed right. The kid never slowed down, he probably didn’t know how. Being slow got you in trouble. It was a luxury Hog hadn’t given up and could indulge in thanks to his god given advantages out here.

Laying a hand on Junkrat’s shoulder, he was surprised to see how the kid flinched violently from the touch. When he recovered, Rat threw him an apologetic glance. “Yea?”

“Don’t push yourself too hard. Take a day off in a couple days.” With that Roadhog left him to his work. As he walked back to their shack, he contemplated what he should take up to get by here. It would out them to grab some merc work so he really only had one other skill to call on. He was a bit out of practice on the big stuff, but the folks here didn’t know a spiral fracture from jack.


	18. Good and Bad

The next day Roadhog rose early and headed into the small bazaar. He chatted up a couple proprietors and got a spot of his own. He brought along some of the medical supplies he’d filched that day Rat had gotten sewn up. Seems he didn’t have much in the way of competition. There were herbalists and midwives in town, but no proper doctoring shop.

Most folks who went by just stared, which made sense. He didn’t look like someone who could fix wounds, only deliver them. He had one customer that day. A mother brought her child who’d sliced himself open bad. She’d rushed over as soon as it had happened. Must have heard he’d set up earlier and then her kid went a did this to himself. He tended to it, disinfecting and cleaning it out. The kid screamed and it only got louder when he sutured it up.

But when all was said and done he had a little pile of tokens and a thankful mother. Business was probably going to pick up after this. And it did. The next day he had a several people come to him for a variety of ailments, but nothing he couldn’t take care of. When he came home, Rat was waiting which was a first since they’d gotten here.

“Saw ya in the shops. Didn’t know you were so good at doctorin’!” He was dressed down to his usual shorts, but wasn’t bothering with his harness. Laying on his back with his legs up against the wall, he looked bored. So he’d either been here a couple hours or maybe five minutes. “Why’d you even send me in that day in scrotesville anyways?” His fingers went to his neck where the scar of his close encounter remained.

“Didn’t have the supplies.” Hog sat against the wall beside him, looking down at the tan lines left by his harness. Recently he’d been wearing shirts too. They protected him from the sun and hid his grenades. It was kind of nice how they framed his chest. “Not that you’dve let me near your throat with a needle then.”

Junkrat giggled and kicked his legs against the wall. “Damn right mate. Was you a doctor in a past life then?”

He shook his head slowly. “I was a nurse.”

The image of Roadhog dressed in a nurse’s outfit like in the nudie mags Rat found every once in a while had Junkrat in tears. He hammered against the wall with his foot and peg, threatening to knock the flimsy thing down. “Did they have you in garters with the lil hat, mate?” He finally choked, pretending to affix a tiny nurse’s cap to his head.

Hog snorted understanding the sudden uproar now. “Nah, we were in jammies practically.” He imagined the words scrubs had lost its application by now.

“That’s too bad, you’d look good in garters.” Junkrat winked and grinned devilishly before laughing his head off again.

Roadhog stared wordlessly. Even though Rat hadn’t meant anything by it, that wink and that comment made his mouth go dry. He liked being talked to like that. He should probably be worried about that feeling, but dived back into conversation. “Your figure’s better suited to them than mine.”

They both laughed and Rat grabbed his good leg and pulled it back toward him, enjoying the pull on his hamstring and sliding his hands over the hair and scars on his calf. “Damn right you are. May just be the one, but it’s a damn sexy leg.” He threw his head back against the dirt and posed like the pin up girls he’d seen before, but doing a shit job of it on account of the fact he couldn’t stop giggling.

Laughing along, Roadhog reached into his pocket and pulled out a precooked potato he’d grabbed from a neighboring stall before closing. Unwrapping it from his handkerchief, he peeled back the skin and bit into the soft filling. He hadn’t even gotten to have a second bite before Junkrat crawled upright and was sniffing at it.

Those big eyes were staring at it, willing Hog to offer some to him. They followed the potato as he took another bite. The sheer heartbreak Rat looked like he was going through by the third bite absolutely killed Hog. It was probably the hardest he’d laughed in awhile.

“God, fine take it.” He thrust the potato into Junkrat’s palm between laughs. Rat looked alarmed and a bit pinked.

“I just wanted a nibble! I didn’t want to take the whole thing.” Roadhog waved him off and refused to take it back. Warm, fond feelings filled his chest as Rat finished off the potato gleefully and then ate the tough skin too.

The days whiled away like this, working and resting together. It was a pleasant break from the usual endless roam and Roadhog had forgotten the satisfaction of putting in a shift then coming back to his little shelter with his roommate to joke with. When no one came to the stall he could feel the restlessness in his bones, but for now he could enjoy the calm.

Junkrat meanwhile was having a rougher time. At first he thought he had been unable to build what he wanted because he was distracted. But after days and days of scrapping and getting the parts he knew he needed he found that he just couldn’t sit down and do it. Roadhog noticed something was off too because every time he visited Rat at the junkyard and he’d be staring at something or screwing a couple pieces together if Hog touched him or got to close the kid would flinch or jump.

He wasn’t like that away from the yard, but Rat could feel his body tense as he’d tinker fruitlessly, mind congesting and screaming about anything but what he was trying to do. It was insufferable. So he’d just go back to scrapping. Eventually he started bringing his frustration home with him. It started with less jokes, less laughter and turned to lashing out.

He had come home to the shack early, hoping to relieve some of the stress by rubbing one out. It was working pretty well too, his slim fingers pumped hard, coaxing heavy breaths. Going mindless and just feeling the building tension in his gut. The good thing he had going was interrupted by Hog pushing open the door, lugging back his supplies.

Junkrat screamed bloody murder as he yanked his shorts up. “Don’t you know how to fucking knock you fucking whacka drongo stickybeak mother fucker!”

Hog had only caught a glimpse of bare flesh and turned away quickly as Rat buttoned up and adjusted the uncomfortable half chub he had now. “Sorry, you’re usually not here now,” he mumbled equally embarrassed to walk in on something so personal.

Scrambling to his feet, anger bubbled up and just wouldn’t stop. “That don’t mean you get to barge in like you own the place! It ain’t just your shack just cuz I work all damn day. Sorry I don’t get a shit ton o’ tokens just for kissin’ people’s boo boos.”

Sympathy for Rat died out quick. Things had been rough as it was with all the irritability coming from his partner. Even as Junkrat had been wallowing in the big stink he’d been caught up in, any attempt at offering some kindness had just gotten Hog glared at. His own fuse was running short.

“I already said sorry. I’ll knock next time.” His voice was low and the words came out through gritted teeth.

Catching wind of Hog’s irritation, Rat was just spurred on. “What you peeved for? Nobody walked in on your session! You don’t get to be mad just cuz you don’t get to spy on me whenever ya want!” He stood up straight, getting in Hog’s face, jabbing his chest with a finger.

Oh that was it. Roadhog grabbed Junkrat by the wrist and twisted. It forced Rat to drop to try and alleviate the pressure. Rat was cursing and struggling to get free as he was forced to his knees.

“You’ve been a real shit lately. What the hell’s the problem here?” he growled, slowly twisting harder the longer Rat remained silent. Junkrat growled back and suddenly raked his fingernails down Hog’s arm.

“Fuck!” he cursed, throwing Rat back to look at the blood starting to seep out. Rat scuttled into the corner and glared at Roadhog.

“The problem is you’re a yobbo with no sense of privacy!”

Taking a heavy breath, Hog clenched his fists, which made blood pool on the scratches even faster. “You’ve been sulking for days now. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you ain’t built shit, something’s wrong.” Unclenching, he brought the wounded arm up, showing it to Rat. “Or your just being a dick and I’m gonna kick your ass for this.”

The comment about his lack of progress had him curled up and looking away sullenly. This tense silence lasted for several minutes, Hog looming in the doorway, Rat curled up motionless in the corner. Finally, tired of standing there with a stinging wound, Hog shut the door and sat down, pulling out some disinfectant and treating himself. The silence persisted.

“Sorry,” Rat finally offered when the silence became too heavy and overwhelming. Roadhog sighed and got up from his place by the door to sit by Rat with a little more space than usual. He leaned over to get a look at his sulky partner, but when he did Rat just turned away.

The quiet gave Hog time to defuse and calm down. Sighing again, he placed a hand on Rat’s shoulder. Tensing under the touch, Junkrat expected to be pulled out of his corner and forced to face his partner, but instead the hand just rested there. There was more silence, but all Junkrat could think about was the warmth engulfing his shoulder. It gave him something to focus on instead of the mess that was going on his head. Then Hog used his thumb to rub slowly drawing out a slow exhale of relaxation from Rat. He untensed and uncurled, letting his legs stretch out before him. He ached lightly from the effort of drawing in on himself, grateful to be unwound.

Seeing this, Hog moved his hand up to the top of Rat’s head, tousling his hair and giving him a playful pat that rocked him forward before pulling his hand back.

“I don’t know what it is, mate.” The words came slow, but Hog was patient. “Every time I set down to build, I just–“ Rat grimaced and tried to grasp the words from the air. “It hurts? I think I’m scared to do it? My skin crawls and everything’s stiff like when I’m on the run. It makes me brain itch like mad til I give it up.” Every word was a battle and by the end he slumped over, watching his empty hands as if they might tell him why this was happening.

Swallowing hard, Roadhog felt for Rat. It didn’t take a whole lot of being around the kid to know that tinkering was more important than breathing to him. More silence engulfed them as Hog thought. Rat couldn’t see it, but he was pretty sure he knew what was happening.

“River hit you when you worked. You got made to do nothing but work and got punished for it.”

Junkrat stared up at him with a confused look. “It weren’t that bad. I took worse beatin’s and the S.O.B. is dead so what’s they got to do with this?” Rat blew him off and itched himself. “Probably just losin’ my mind some more.” He tried to say it casually, but his eyes were fearful.

It was obvious Rat didn’t want to talk about it any more so Hog let him off the hook. It was a somber evening, but as they laid down for sleep, Hog resolved on a way to help.


	19. Admission

The next morning Rat was gone before him. He’d expected that and went about his morning routine before heading out to the junkyard. Hearing his approach and twisting about with confusion, he started up right away. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at yer stall?”

“Taking the day off. So I’m here to do my other job.”

“Other job?”

“Still your bodyguard.” Though Rat couldn’t see it he was grinning to himself. Befuddled and giving an odd suspicious look, Rat started to scrap. Hog followed along, watching his partner surreptitiously dig through the trash. He’d chronically look over his shoulder and squint at Roadhog. They were only an hour in before he confronted the big guy about it.

“What you hovering around me for? It’s just annoying. Go– go breathe down someone else’s neck.” He flapped his hands at Hog, trying to shoo him off, but all he got was a chuckle.

“So put me to work, boss.” He could see Junkrat struggling not to look to pleased at the words and watched him turn on his heel.

“Alright! Pull that doovalackey out then!” Rat pointed at a large twisted piece of metal that was lodged in the pile. Hog nodded and bent down, rubbing some dirt between his palms before grabbing hold of the thing and began pulling it out. His muscles strained and it felt good. He hadn’t really gotten a work out in a while, setting his right foot back, he threw himself into it. Sure enough the piece of junk gave in and slipped out from the pile, causing other objects to slip and clatter down.

Rat watched intently, still impressed with the raw power Roadhog had. Even with all that fat you could see the muscles of his back shift and tense. And lord those arms were so damn thick. Raw physical power was by far the most admired trait in the Outback, but Rat would be lying if there wasn’t something more he liked about big fellas than how they could rip his head off.

When the wreckage that was once a bit of car frame had been tugged out. Rat broke his gaze off to start wiggling into the gap that had been left. He started tossing the worthless stuff out behind, which Hog had to dodge. But finally he backed out of the little hole with a hand wrapped around some bit of junk that was probably worth something.

Junkrat ran back to his home base with it and Hog chased after him at a lumbering pace. There were other scrappers around and one started to creep to the gap Hog had left, but a snarl from the man who’d bodily torn that gap open made the competitor shy away. Back at his little scrap base, Rat started scrubbing right away, peeling back the grime to get a better idea of the item’s condition. He seemed delighted once it was cleaned up.

“This is just what I needed. Not even the dealer had this! Between this and that engine you’re my lucky star now.”

“So what thing does it go to?” he asked, trying to egg Rat on.

“Well, for yer scrap gun I was thinking I might be able to make it able to like– bang bang bang bang real fast like a gattling gun kind o’ thing. Like how they used in the Emu War way back when.”

“So where will this go?”  
“Well,” Rat reached into his box of parts and pulled out another mysterious piece of metal, “Jam these two together, then this,” he pulled out another, “would go on top and that’d be the mechanism to get it started.”

Roadhog sat down beside him, leaning to look at the bits he was showing him. Rat kept talking and he let him, looking interested even though nothing Rat said made a lot of sense. He had his own way of talking shop. When the flow of words finally came to a stop, Rat gave a defeated sigh. He set the parts down and started to get up to do some more scrapping. Hog grabbed his wrist and tugged him back down.

“Do it. Work on it.”

“I can’t, mate! I already told you,” he was almost whining, brows drawn up sadly.

Hog reeled him in, back down to the ground. “I didn’t partner up with some nobody scrapper. I’m partner’s with a genius who can build a fucking gun out of garbage.”

The compliment sent Rat to cloud nine. Being acknowledged for being good at something meant the world to him. And it was all the more special coming from Roadhog. For probably the billionth time since he’d been broken out of the Hangmen’s compound his brain yelled FRIEND! He was so ecstatic he didn’t even notice the edge of a threat laid in the comment too.

Watching the bashful smile that parted across Rat’s face, Roadhog smiled to himself too. Those thin hands were unsure at first, taking up tools and pieces. Once he tried to get into it, his fingers shook and his body tensed, the smile faded and was replaced with a thin line of frustration. Seeing this, Roadhog patted Rat’s back. The kid jumped at the touch, but hearing Hog laugh at him, he laughed along too and loosened up. Hog kept him chattering too, asking about this and that.

A few pieces got put together, but Rat was still too tense, so before he could get too frustrated, Roadhog pulled his attention away, saying he saw other scrappers headed for the spot he’d opened up. Together they went back and uncovered some more worthwhile scrap.

Roadhog did this the next day and the day after. Coaxing Junkrat into tinkering, while hanging about, keeping him talking and giving reassuring pats. He hadn’t taken more than a couple psych classes, but he knew well enough that positive reinforcement could go far. If Junkrat felt good and safe working he’d get back into his groove. Hog owed him this given it was his fault Rat had to endure what he did.

Junkrat figured out what Roadhog was up to pretty quick, and while he should have been offended that someone was trying to help him when he would be just fine on his own– he also enjoyed being the center of attention. He felt positively doted on. Between the daily pats on the head and constant interest in his work, he started feel at ease putting parts together. This weird plan of Hog’s was working and he was honestly thankful. He had so little to be proud of; that made him feel worthwhile, he couldn’t bear to lose the ability to build.

By day five, Roadhog decided to just set up his shop out there. Everyone knew where to find him anyways, word got out easy about the move, so he multi tasked. Junkrat was keen to watch Roadhog at work too. He was amazed that the huge hands could be delicate at all. But then again, he was pretty sure he could remember a few times those hands had been gentle to him too.

“How’d you end up becoming a nurse anyways? I woulda thought you’d have been a merc all yer life,” he asked one day.

“No one needed mercs. But they needed nurses. And paid good for it. Wanted to be a doctor and get rich, but couldn’t afford the school.”

“So people’s was always poor? River made it sound like nobody was wantin’ out there.” Rat’s eyes flicked up to the horizon as if he might catch a glimpse of the world that lay outside Junkertown.

“Was better than this. But there was still poor people. Probably still is. But I wasn’t too bad off.”

“Do you miss it?”

Roadhog lifted his head from the medicine he was preparing. Rat was sitting in rapt attention, watching his face even though it was covered up. “Yea.”

“What was it like?”

Sitting back, he raised a heavy hand up and scratched around his throat. “It was so easy. Compared to this. I didn’t know how good it was. Water you could see through on tap. Didn’t have to worry about getting’ killed. Most people could eat til they were full. Food was good. So good. Entire buildings just filled with different food you could buy.”

Junkrat had his eyes closed, picturing it all, mouth open and drooling as he envisioned eating candy bars until his stomach hurt. “Sounds dreamy.” Hog didn’t answer, just went back to work, memories floating through his mind.

Weeks passed and Junkrat did find his groove again. But despite that Hog didn’t bother moving his stall back to the bazaar. The time they spent together just kept building up the fondness he had for Junkrat. Every joke, every smile, kept him coming back for more. The banter was too addictive. He could say honestly that he hadn’t had this many laughs since the world ended.

“Hey. Hey Roadie. Roadie. Roadie. Hog.” Junkrat was crouched, eyes peering up at him from the edge of his work table in the yard. Hog was sitting at the table doing absolutely nothing, but ignored Rat anyways. The longer he didn’t acknowledge him the funnier it got.

“Roooadie,” he whined, shaking the table to try and get that mask to turn toward him, but Hog kept acting like nothing was happening. “Why are you like this!” Rat fell dramatically back into the dirt and set his boots on Roadhog’s knees, pushing them to the side in a futile attempt to get attention. Hog just let himself be moved, but didn’t let his upper body budge.

Rat screeched with frustration and climbed under the table, popping up beside Hog to grab his shoulders and try to shake him. “Roadhog! Don’t be a prick!” He reached up and started tugging on the ponytail, batting it from side to side. “You can’t ignore me forever, mate. Just quit it already!” When he got bored of that he pulled out the big guns and climbed up onto the table and started butting his head against Roadhog’s forehead.

This close, Rat could see Hog’s eyes and he knew that his partner did this just to drive him up the wall. Those dark eyes were crinkled with a hidden smile. Roadhog stared right back. The closeness was suffocating, but getting to see just how riled up Rat was, was too good.

This moment lasted only a couple seconds before Rat started hammering his head against Hog’s, headbutting him. Hog got into it too and started butting back. They both started laughing darkly and really got into it until a big round red mark formed on Rat’s forehead and both their heads started to ache. Sometimes other people in the junkyard would stop and stare as these two idiots tried to give each other a concussion.

“Alright what the hell is it?” Hog finally asked, holding a palm to his throbbing head.

Rat, sprawled over the table and knocking shit over, was working on catching his breath. “I– I wanted to show ya something.” He rolled off the table and started off toward the junkyard, turning and looking back to see if Hog would follow. And of course he did. Lumbering after Rat, he wondered what was up.

When they reached their destination Rat was grinning and giggling already. He reached down and flipped over a bit of corrugated plastic and just lost it. Heaving an exasperated sigh, Hog should have known. He stared down at the dildo and at Rat who’d fallen to his hands and knees, one arm wrapped around his waist, laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe.

“I quit. Nice knowing you,” he said, turning around and heading back out with a wave of his hand.

“Oh come on,” Rat called, scrambling after him, grabbing his arm and hauling him back. Roadhog had come to find he had a weakness for the touch of those hands. And Rat knew it, but not that the weakness came from how it made Hog’s skin tingle or his heart quicken.

Back in front of the toy again, it was all Junkrat could do to hold onto Hog when he saw it again. He slipped down and clung to Hog’s wrist as he broke down into his trademark cackle. When Roadhog finally let out a chuckle too, it made Rat laugh all the harder.

“See!” he gasped, straightening up, “I knew you’d laugh.” He slapped Roadhog’s arm and leaned on him as he stared down at the sex toy, still giggling at it.

“I’m laughing at you. Idiot.” He reached up shoved Rat by the back of the head.

“Ah, ye love it,” he teased. Rat reached down and grabbed the toy, shaking it at Hog and biting down on his free hand’s fingers to stifle himself. It flopped about a couple time before Rat started shaking it too hard and the ancient silicon gave up the ghost and the toy snapped in half, sending the front half of the dick flying across the junkyard. Junkrat screamed at the top of his lungs in delight before dissolving into that mad laugh.

Roadhog lost it too, doubling over at the sight of half a dildo careening through the air and slamming into the ground with a couple bounces. “Christ,” he choked out, tears welled up he was laughing so hard. He really did love it. He loved everything about Junkrat. That thought split his mind open. Did he really just think that? His laughter died down as did Rat’s. His eyes locked onto Junkrat, who grinned and tossed the remaining half of the toy back into the ditch.

“I’m gonna go to the market. Get us something to eat.” It was an excuse to get a moment alone.

“I’ll come too!” Rat chimed, starting in the direction of the bazaar.

“Nah, I want it to be a surprise,” Hog interjected. Rat stopped wide eyed, before clapping his hands happily.

“Oh, you know I love surprises! Thanks ya big bastard,” he nudged Hog with his elbow as he went by, heading back into the depths of the junkyard to find more scrap.

The touch felt all the more electric with what currently plagued his mind. Hurrying out, he just ended up going back to the shack. He pried off his mask and rubbed a hand over his face. What the hell was wrong him? He was too old to slip this easy. Just cuz someone smiled at him like that, made him laugh, made him feel human. Hog slumped to the floor, staring at his mask.  
He’d noticed the little changes in himself. All the little sparks when those boney hands were on him. The warm tight feeling he got when he made Rat happy. From the start he had just been ignoring it, like how he had ignored his impulses most of the time. Ever since ruining his home he had actively buried as much of his emotions as he could. It was impossible to really do, but he could compartmentalize it. But it had seeped out anyways.

Gazing into the blank eyes of his mask, he tilted it slightly, peering at his own distorted reflection in the glass. He turned his head, looking over his appearance. He was grizzled, definitely older than he how he pictured himself. But the again the last time he regularly had access to a mirror was years ago. Maybe he should see if someone had one for sale around here.

He cupped his face with one hand, wondering what the hell he was thinking. This was a good thing he had going. And Rat didn’t even know about his past, what he did. There were a million reasons why he should keep this shit to himself, so he would. Roadhog fastened his mask back on, heading out to get the surprise he’d promised.


	20. Trading Stories

Not much changed even with his self admission, but he did find himself all the more aware of all the things Rat did that he liked or admired. It was actually kind of pleasant to just indulge in enjoying their time together. He’d find excuses to buy a few more conkerberries and give them to Junkrat or to ruffle his hair a little more often, but otherwise they carried on much the same.

Every bit of extra attention Rat got, drove him to work all the harder on his special project. It was more ambitious than anything he’d made before, but any doubts that it might not come together were swept away every time Hog gave him a reassuring pat or laughed with him. If he could do something like make his partner laugh he could do anything probably.

He finished the addition to the scrap gun first, though it took longer because he kept jumping between projects. They walked out into the wide, open Outback beyond the town’s edge to test it. So far Roadhog hadn’t said anything in particular even after Rat had described what it would do. But with a pile of scrap at hand, he showed him how to set the handle in, plying those huge hands to move with his own.

“Now start cranking!” he announced, hopping back to watch it go. Hog widened his stance and did as he was told. Slow at first, but then as fast as he could, watching scrap tear from the muzzle at an ungodly rate. His whole body shook with the force of the gattling attachment. Junkrat twisted with glee when that dark laughter slipped from Hog as he imagined what this addition would do to a gang of junkers. When it ran out and the handle was forced back out from the gun, Hog turned to Rat and gave him a thumbs up along with another dark chuckle.  
“Worked like a charm! Now, mate, can’t use that all the time. Too much heat for that. Gotta let it cool down afterwards, but that don’t mean ye can’t use it like regular.” He took the handle, looking it over for warping, but was pleased to see he’d traded for a damn sturdy piece of rebar that could stand up to Hog’s grip.

“Got it. Good work as always,” Hog confirmed, reaching out and ruffling the mess of blonde hair. Junkrat pressed into the touch happily. Roadhog felt his throat tighten up and he let his hand move a little more gently, sliding down slightly so his thumb could graze the skin of Rat’s temple, his ear sliding under his palm. To hide the excess caress, he let his hand drop down straight after.

For Rat, the touch was welcome. He always wanted to ask for more, but that would probably piss Hog off. He didn’t like it when Rat tried to tell him what to do if he hadn’t offered. So he just grinned and started bouncing back toward town. Partnering up with Roadhog really was the best choice he’d ever made. This was probably the longest he’d ever gone feeling safe and secure since he left the company of his fellow junkrats.

That night, in their little shack, made all the smaller with the bike stashed in it, they lounged by the clumsily crafted stove that had been there when they grabbed the lot. Roadhog was quiet as always and Junkrat was humming to himself as he tightened the bolts on his leg. Looking over at Hog, he looked back to his leg and made a spontaneous decision. He pulled up his shorts and unstrapped the leg, sighing as fresh air hit the end of the stump.

He usually only did this when he was completely alone, either in the dead of night or far from prying eyes. He ran his hands over the end, feeling the hard scars that covered it. Giving a quick glance toward Hog, he saw the mask turned toward him and Rat quickly looked away. He grabbed the prosthetic and set to work on it to distract himself from the strange vulnerable feeling the situation put him in.

“Your leg alright?” Hog finally asked.

Junkrat stopped and scraped his nail over the metal in his hands, trying to soothe himself. Maybe he shouldn’t have done this, as much as he trusted Roadhog, taking off his leg still felt bad. “Yea. It’s just achey. Gets like that sometimes if I don’t let it breathe.”

“Phantom limb?”

“Phanta what now?” he asked turning to look at Hog finally.

He should have guessed Rat wouldn’t know about it. “When you lose a limb it’ll sometimes feel like it’s still there. Usually hurts.”

“Oh!” Rat lit up with understanding. “Sometimes it still does that, but the worst of it was when it first went. Now just cramps up or gets sore.”

“Want me to massage it? Pretty sure physical therapy was lost to time when you lost it.” Roadhog could still remember seeing the stump up close that first time in the compound. How tense and knotted the muscles seemed just beneath the skin.

“Is that what they was supposed to do?” He was curious, if apprehensive about having someone put their hands on his leg. But the casual way that Hog was speaking to him about it, it was relaxing. And Hog was a proper medic from before the meltdown. So when Hog nodded, he did as well. “Let’s try it then! Gets real tirin’ runnin’ around with a stiff stump.”

Cracking his knuckles, Roadhog got up from his place and kneeled by Rat. “Lay out flat,” he instructed. Junkrat made an uncomfortable expression and scooted down until his back hit the floor.

“Never had a massage before. Couldn’t afford the ones they offer at the brothels.” He let out a nervous chuckle. Roadhog set a hand on the leg, which made Rat flinch hard. Hog could feel the jump in tension just under the skin.

“Whenever you’re uncomfortable tell me. You’re the boss right now. Just try and relax.” Junkrat tried to give him a smile, but it looked painful and awkward. Roadhog slid his hands over the leg, pushing the cloth out of the way and just feeling the shape of the muscles under his touch. He kept doing this, hoping Rat might loosen up even a little, but every time he looked up Junkrat’s hands were twitching and his jaw was clenched.

Keeping one hand on the leg, Hog sighed and reached up to undo his mask. The cessation of movement got Rat’s attention and seeing Roadhog’s face come into view held it. Junkrat gave a small smile, appreciating that his partner was exposing himself just like he was.

Going back to the light movements, he asked, “I ever tell you about how I got this scar?” Roadhog had expected Rat to be talking non stop when he started this, but if the kid was going to be dead silent he knew he had to fill in. For most other people quiet was a good thing, but for Rat it was a sign something was off.

Junkrat twisted his head so he could watch Roadhog’s face while he worked. There was no question about which scar Roadhog was talking about. The side of his face was distorted by a thick, ropey scar that went from forehead to jaw line. There were a few smaller ones about, mostly collected around that particular part of his face. “No ye haven’t.”

“Well,” he started, easing his thumbs into the meat of the leg, pulling down from hip to tip. “I got it when the meltdown happened. I was outside, watching the thing blow up. Didn’t think that maybe I should duck my dumb ass head down. So sure enough this piece of metal comes flying at me–“ He paused when Junkrat hissed lightly as he hit a knot too hard. His hands stopped over the spot and he pressed in slowly, listening to Junkrat’s body to know when to stop and hold.

“So it comes flying, and I see it. Looked like it was in slow motion. I could see it turning. But couldn’t get out of the way. And so this huge thing just straight up lodges itself in the side of my face.” Letting up the pressure, he felt the knot unwind.

“Hooley dooley, that’s nice,” Rat muttered, sighing as his leg relaxed a little.

“Oh you think it’s nice I got hit in the face with scrap?” Hog joked, sneering playfully.

Junkrat couldn’t tear his eyes away from that little mean smile Hog was making. He never got to see his whole face emoting. “Not what I meant!” he blurted, still entranced by his partner’s face.

“Uhuh,” Hog teased, working the stump over gently, rolling it in his hands. “Anyways so I hit the ground. And I’m freaking out. Should I pull it out? Should I leave it in? I forgot everything I learned about medicine I was so batshit scared. Glad no one was there to see. Embarrassing.”

“Scared? Didn’t think ye knew what that was.” He honestly didn’t know the big guy could get scared ever. He seemed too powerful, too hardened.

Roadhog chuckled. “It happens. Either way when I finally calmed down. I sit down in front of the mirror and pull it out. What a mess that was. I was lucky though, it hit me deepest in the cheek. Cut a slice clean through to my teeth.” He tapped the spot on his face with one hand.

Giggling a bit, Rat felt at ease now, even as hands were pushing at the end of his leg. It actually felt really good. “You’re so damn talented Roadie,” he sighed, throwing an arm under his head. That made Hog’s stomach do a little flip, but he didn’t say anything back. He was trying to be professional, but sometimes, when he’d slide his hand up, he imagined going farther, reaching for even more sensitive flesh. His body heated up at the thought, so he bit his tongue hard.

The massage went for a bit over an hour before Hog let up. “Feel better?”

“Yeah, mate! Loads!”

“Good. You should get them regularly. It’s going to tense up again.”

Junkrat sat up, an eager grin split across his face. “Ye mean I get more? How soon?”

The way Rat looked made Hog chuckle, shoulders shaking as he tried to hold it in. His partner just grinned wider, fonder seeing him laugh. This was the first time he’d gotten to see Hog do it without the mask and it was beautiful. “’S too bad you need that thing on to breathe. Ye look good without it.” He expected Roadhog to laugh more, but instead he got an almost embarrassed smile. It was just a tiny flash of teeth and a quietly exhaled ‘heh’.

Roadhog pulled his mask back on with a sigh as Junkrat replayed that moment in his head along with each other little expression Hog had made during this session. It was nice to see what the big guy was feeling. When he’d gone to settle back by the the wall, before Hog pulled up his book again, Junkrat sat up and asked, “Ya wanna know how I lost it?”

He got a questioning grunt back. “Usually gets asked right away, but you ain’t said a thing about it. Which was nice, actually. But since ye told me about,” Rat tapped the side of his face the way Hog had before.

There was a pause as Hog thought it over. He was worried the story would come out to be another thing that the meltdown had taken from Rat. Something else he was responsible for, but even if it was he should hear it anyways. This was his burden to bear. “I’d like to know.”

“Righto, well,” he started, patting his bum leg, “Probably ‘bout as obvious as a shag on a rock but its on account of building one o’ me toys. Granted I didn’t blow the thing off. Just got torn up pretty bad, then it got nasty. Must not have dug out all the bits or somethin’ cuz it weren’t but a couple days before I was doin’ the Aussie salute non stop over the stitches.”

Roadhog watched Junkrat’s face carefully, noting the twitch of his lips as he reminisced and the far away look in his eyes. “So when it started to stink they took it off,” he continued. He wiped his face with his palm, shivering at the memory. “I think I was ten? Was the icin’ on the cake after the meltdown.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you.”

Rat looked absolutely bewildered at the comment. “Well, I mean it weren’t but me own damn fault. For playin’ with bombs ye know–“

“It wasn’t your fault. You should have had someone watching over you. You should have had access to proper doctors.” Roadhog’s voice was deadly serious, and if Rat was hearing it right, it was sad. For him. Empathetic for him. He’d just taken for granted that it was his own fault, but Hog wasn’t blaming him. He turned away and clasped his hands.

“Thanks, mate,” he said quietly. Hog remained silent, feeling like he was choking on his guilt. No matter how many times he swallowed, it retained a tight grasp on his throat. Junkrat looked up at him with the gentlest smile, bursting with warmth. “Now I have both! A proper doctor and someone who watches me back! And he’s me best mate too!”

Roadhog was sure his heart was going to explode. He reached over and threw his arm around Rat’s neck, pulling him in to noogie him until he was begging Hog to quit it. “You’re my best mate too,” he finally said when Rat started screaming. The kid froze and Hog let him go. While Junkrat slipped into sleep easily that night, Roadhog decided to stay up and watch the sun rise.


	21. Outplayed

That became a part of their routine too. Working on Rat’s twisted stump everyday to unlock the tension. It made Hog admire him more as he realized Rat had just accepted this chronic pain as a given and kept going. Each session also left him sweating for more reasons than just from the effort of the work. Little moans of pleasure and breathy sighs of relief were fodder for his fantasies.

But by far what was most cherished was how much closer they became, exposing their weaknesses together like this. For Rat in particular it normalized the act of taking off his prosthetic. With Roadhog, even if someone were to burst into their shack, he’d be safe, so it was okay to lounge around with his leg off.

Junkrat found himself making strides in his work, as if opening up physically were unlocking the mental blocks he had on how to proceed. In under two weeks his master creation was ready for a test drive.

“It’s a tire,” Hog said flatly.

“Not just any tire! It’s the RIP TIRE! The Rest In fuckin’ Pieces Tire!” He made jazz hands at it again.

“So a tire with spikes,” he said in the same monotone. Junkrat screeched in frustration and Hog held in his laughter at how easy it was to rile Rat up.

“You’ll see! It’ll blow yer bloody mind!” He even went so far as to add a little ka–blooey sound effect as he wiggled his fingers around his head like it was blowing up.

Hog let out a rumble of a chuckle, and crossed his arms, cocking his head. “So show me.” He used that deep, teasing tone that drove Junkrat crazy in a good way. It made him twitch with apprehension for something that Roadhog never followed up with.

Taking that energy, Junkrat spun around and set his peg leg against the tire, reaching forward to grab the starter, he pulled back hard. The engine turned over, but died, making him give a frustrated yell. So he leaned in again and yanked it harder, rewarded with violent start. The engine in his tire misfired once, but then rumbled steadily. Grabbing the ancient RC controller, he sent his creation rolling forward, and boy did it roll. It took off into the arid desert before them like it had a mission.

Hog muttered, “Holy shit,” to himself as the thing turned and jumped to Rat’s will. Hearing the genuine awe in Roadhog’s voice made Rat half hard he was so fucking pleased with himself.

“And now! The finale!” he announced, slamming his finger down on a button. Aaand, nothing happened. Looking between the controller and the tire, Junkrat pushed the button again. He frowned and started tapping it more and more incessantly. He tried to get up and walk closer to it, but Roadhog grabbed him and yanked him back.

“You said you put a timer in it didn’t you?”

On cue, the tire exploded violently in the distance, flinging shrapnel and leaving a blackened crater in the dirt. “Oh yea!” Rat exclaimed, dangling by his harness, eyes taking in the explosion with a loving look. That gorgeous boom didn’t help with how hot he was feeling right now. “Hooley dooley, I done cracked a fat one that was so good!” He wriggled in Hog’s grasp, who promptly let go, hearing that announcement.

“What the fuck Rat,” he said as his partner hit the ground unceremoniously.

“What?” he replied, “Ya suddenly a prude?” He patted the dirt from himself and started toward the crater.

That little quip was embarrassing less because there was much modesty in the Outback and more because of the things his brain did with that knowledge. “Last time I was anywhere near you when you were horny you tried to take my arm off.”

They trotted toward the wreckage of the tire, glancing about at the most far flung pieces. “That’s not true, Hog! You been right next to me when I made some real nice explosions before.” He laughed and hopped around watching Roadhog shake his head.

“Are you telling me you get hard every time you blow something up?” Hog both hated and liked that they’d gotten so close that they could talk like this. The hate was mostly because he was having a devil of a time not saying something too provocative. So many lines and innuendos tugged at his tongue, but he didn’t dare.

“Well not every time. Just the really good ones!” He steepled his fingers and giggled at his own naughtiness. At the center of the wreckage remained a undamaged portion of the RIP Tire. It was the center part, at least that’s what Hog was pretty sure it was. Rat reached down and picked it up, but a blank look spread on his face for a moment before he dropped it, gasping and giving a strangled stream of curses.

“That was a mistake,” he groaned, smothering his burnt hand with the other one. Roadhog closed the gap between them, pulling the injured hand free and looking at it. The skin of his fingers and some of his palm were a bright, angry red. They had been made smooth by the heat of the metal.

With a moment’s deliberation, Hog reached back and grabbed one of his hogdrogen packs. He undid his mask and slipped it over Junkrat’s face. It took him a moment to make sure it lined up well enough to ensure Rat would get a good breath before he plugged the pack in. Junkrat went still, entranced by the novelty of wearing Hog’s mask for the first time. Even before the drugs aerated in he took a deep breath, catching the smell of sweat and leather. The eye holes didn’t line up right for him, but he could still see out. So this is how he sees me he thought, smiling gently to himself.

The gas rushed in with a hiss and Hog told him, “Breathe deep,” sternly. Rat did as instructed and quickly felt the pain in his hand vanish. When Roadhog saw the burn was healed, he unplugged the pack and took back his mask.

It was quiet for a moment as Junkrat watched him slip it back on. “Kind of a waste don’t ya think?” he said when Hog looked up.

Another pause. “You can’t work if your hand’s burned. It’s no waste at all.” He said it matter of factly, and that absolutely killed Rat. It made his face heat up he was so pleased with the praise.

“Thanks, mate.” The words were sincere and his smile was warm. Roadhog was something else. He’d never been so comfortable with someone. For as often as Hog would tease him and smack him in the back of the head for being impulsive, when Rat needed it, Hog was kind. Patience of a saint. Junkrat knew he was a brat and a fool at times, but even so Hog would wait him out. Take care of him.

With a nod of acknowledgement, Roadhog pulled out his hook and caught the bit of metal with it. He held it out and away from him and headed back into town with Rat in tow.

“So aside from the button thing did it work how it was supposed to?” Hog asked.

“Sure did! Worked like a charm!”

“How’d you get it to move like that? Never seen anything like it.”

Every little bit of praise was absolutely gobbled up by his ego. “I came up with a lot of ideas when I was ‘posed to build that thing for River. This was one I imagined up in me free time. Uses the Omnica battery to make that lil engine go nuts like you saw!”

Hog stopped abruptly. “I thought you said that thing was on par with the meltdown?” The worry and seriousness in his voice made Rat wilt a little.

“They built the thing good! Needs to short circuit to blow! And I got it all snug as bug in a rug in here.” He pointed at the metal contraption hanging from Hog’s hook. “Traded practically half the scrap I got just to get that part. It’s a genuine piece o’ Titan. It takes a particle cannon to get through this metal!”

Giving the thing a dubious look, Roadhog gave a satisfied grunt. After a moment he grabbed a large piece of RIP tire off the ground, eyeing the spikes inlaid in the rubber. “Be a shame to waste this.” He looked back at the various remnants of the tire. No other pieces had remained nearly as intact. “Keep this to remember this place by. You said you wanted to head out later this week right?”

“Yep! Since this went so ace we can get back on the road!”

As nice as this little vacation from the usual never–ending trek both of them were itching to get back into the action. Neither of them were homebodies. When it had come up they both agreed that there was a stirring in their chests to be on the move again. They allowed just enough time for Junkrat to build another tire, with a few tweaks before they finally set out.

It was easy to fall back into the swing of raiding and riding again. They worked together with unprecedented ease. They knew each other well enough to expect one another’s movements and the trust between them made them confident. Junkrat took to calling out to Hog for a lift and Hog would tense as a bounding Rat would climb his shoulders and take off, firing madly. Rat started being able to fire off shots in time with the hook, blowing victims to pieces before they even got reeled in, letting the big guy move on quickly.

This spawned their catchphrase, or that’s what Rat insisted it was. And if he had to admit it, Roadhog thought it was cute, plus it was a helpful call and response when they had to keep their eyes off each other. “I’ll hook ‘em,” he’d bellow. “And I’ll cook ‘em!” Rat would call back.

But all good things must come to an end.

Roadhog awoke to having his mask being ripped from his face. He shouted with surprise, turning to grab the wrist that was taking his lifeline only to get a face full of pepper spray. He curled in on himself as the pain in his eyes, nose, and mouth hit. He had to focus on breathing as his ragged lungs inflamed in response to the aggravation.

Junkrat was on his feet, launcher ready in a moment, but their attacker had made this move with precision. She had a shotgun leveled at Roadhog’s head, and barked out, “Not a fucking move.” Rat froze, a feral snarl spread across his lips, but brows pulled up with worry as Hog clutched his chest and heaved painful breaths. She held up the mask and looked down at them both from under heavy brows. “The faster you disarm the faster he gets to breathe again.”

His mind was on fire, tearing through thoughts, fears, and half–baked plans. He wanted to be clever, to come up with a brilliant escape, but all he could come back to was every desperate gasping breath the shook out of Roadhog. Junkrat bit down on his lip as he slowly threw away his launcher and his harness.

“Now disarm him.” She gestured at Hog who’s face streamed with tears and snot and spit. He could hear what was happening, but all his concentration was centered on sitting up right and trying to pace his breathing. Rat crept over and did as he was told. For a moment he stopped and stared at that usually enchanting face of his partner’s that was now twisted with pain and fear.

“I’m so sorry, mate.” Was all Rat could choke out. His throat felt tight as he guilt washed over him. Every wheeze that shuddered out of Hog was his fault. He’d been on watch, but somehow he’d managed to fuck up something as simple as that. There was the urge to wipe Hog’s wet face, to offer a comforting touch much like the ones he’d received when he couldn’t build. But instead he rose up and backed away, following the woman’s directions obediently.

She sneered and cuffed Hog who couldn’t resist. The cuffs were made of energy, glowing a steady orange. It was tech unlike anything rat had ever seen, but looking her over, while she had the look of a junker, dressed in faded clothes and built like a brick shit house, she had those cuffs and her gun wasn’t repurposed scrap, it was new. She cuffed him too, then finally, finally, slid the mask over Roadhog’s face and gave him a capsule of hogdrogen.

Hog clung to his mask desperately, taking steadily deeper breaths as his airways opened up. The wheezing faded away into the usual steady rumble of his breathing. It cleared the stinging of the pepper spray and his mind shook free of his survival instincts, letting him take stock of their situation. Looking up at their captor who was carefully taking their weapons and tossing them into the sidecar of their bike. She threw them in from a distance when most people would have waked over and done it. She knew where Rat had buried his mines.

And she knew his own weakness. When her back was turned just the right way, he charged at her. He just needed to push her into the mines. He could take a shot or two to the chest, he had before. So seeing her train that gun on him and fire didn’t phase his determination, but the shot that hit him, that did. Similar orange energy hit him so hard he was blown backward even from the distance she’d been at. Hitting the ground hard, he felt small rocks embed themselves in his skin before the sensation of the burn across his chest caught up.

“Hog!” Rat screamed, throwing himself down beside his partner. He winced seeing the char that deformed that usually powerful chest. The air had been knocked out of Roadhog’s lungs from the impact and every breath was a struggle as his definitely shattered ribs screamed with agony. Blood leaked from between the cracks in his blackened skin like, forced out by the twitches of his chest. Junkrat fumbled to pull another hogdrogen from Hog’s belt and pressed it to the mask. Another deep breath and the burn on his chest healed as if nothing happened.

“Hog, are you alright?” Rat whispered, running a shaky hand over the white hair behind the edge of the mask. He was trembling with fear. It was one thing for him to be weak, but to see Roadhog made to be little more than a ragdoll was another. It might have been unfair, undue, but in a way since being rescued, since having every little issue of his taken care of, it had started to feel like there wasn’t anything Roadhog couldn’t do.

The feeling of those rough hands on his head brought him back to earth. His eyes focused on Rat, the effort rewarded with a watery smile.

“You only have one huff left Mako. I wouldn’t try that again. You might need it yet.”

They both looked up at the woman who’d single handedly brought them to their knees. The glow of her plasma shotgun illuminated a familiar well–worn face. Roadhog, pushed himself up onto his elbows, ribs aching with yet unhealed cracks. “You’re that liberator. The one that rode in with me for Turner.”

“Chloe was really disappointed by that little double cross Mako. It was a real pain. And what’s worse is now you gotta be made an example of. And two–” Her whole body went tense, lip curling, and brows furrowing. When she opened her eyes again they were brimming with anger. “One those rot headed idiots she hired for you went fucking apeshit. They cut her.” Her words had slowed to a growl, rolling out slow and brutal. “It’s gonna scar. My Chloe’s face–“ her rage was too severe to finish her words, teeth bared and nose flared, her finger trembled on the trigger.

“Now give me the Omnica tech and I’ll kill you in one shot.”


	22. Ruined People

Junkrat moved to shield Hog from her weapon and held out his hands shakily. “Whoa there, listen, it weren’t his fault. I were the one that went and made him bail on y’all. I didn’t wanna give up the tech!” His mouth ran fast and his mind faster. Roadhog lay silently, blinking at Rat’s back with confusion.

“Doesn’t change what’s happening,” she growled back, waving her weapon for Rat to move.

“Listen, listen, I know what its like bein’ uh, romantically involved with a suit. You’re both stuck here right? She’s in debt, you’re poor as shit, everyone’s stuck and any day they might decide to make her go work elsewhere and you won’t be able to do nothin’.” He lowered his hands and gave her a searching look rife with sympathy. “That story sound about right?”

Moira stiffened and sucked in air through her teeth. Rat grabbed onto that reaction, letting his mouth run again. His flapping jaw had been only his weapon before he built his launcher. Just keep her listening, just look frail, look small, act sympathetic, act dumb. Do all of this and you just might be able to get another breath.

“It’s gonna go nowhere. You’re just a comfort out here cuz she’s lonely. She’ll get you to do this then what?” He slowly stood up, gesturing for her to lower the gun. “She’s using you. Trust me I seen how this ends–“

“Shut your dirty fucking mouth.” Her eyes are on him and then on his leg. A smile spreads across her face and she lowers her weapon slightly. “Well I’ll be. That explains a lot.”

Rat is confused, Hog even more so. He can’t see past Junkrat and he’s bogged down by waffling over if Rat was lying about that story just now. But she soon clarifies it. “You’re the one that they’ve been tellin’ tall tales about. The one who found treasure in the omnium.”

Rat laughs nervously, “You really think that furphy’s true? C–come on now you’re too clever for that.”

“I changed my mind. Not everything you said is wrong. So new plan. You’re going to take me to the omnium. And we aren’t going to leave until we’ve found enough tech to pay off Chloe’s debt.”

His eyes are wide and he’s shaking his head. “No, no, no. You don’t wanna go there. Besides I only got in there cuz I was all bones. And even then I just being there a few days makes ya sick!”

“This isn’t a debate.” She reached into her hip satchel and pulled out two pairs of strange cuffs. Throwing them to Rat, she side–stepped around them until she could see them both. “And blondie, if you so much as step the wrong way I’ll blow Mako’s fucking head off got it? “

Roadhog sat up at last, turning the cuffs over in his hands. They were silver and metallic but stretched to fit even his wrists. He looked at Junkrat and saw that for him they had become smaller. Nothing bound them together but the woman seemed so certain he guessed they could bind him if she wanted.

While he was toying with them she, stepped forward. “I am sorry that this is how it ended up. I was glad to see you that day. But I did not expect that things would play out as they did. But then again, since when have things played out how we planned them, ey?” Her tone was calmer now and her eyes, while on his face, did not meet his gaze. He could see a tiredness in that face that he could empathize with. She was all, but playing out the same plan he’d had when he’d found Rat.

“You never told me your name.”

“Right. It’s Moira.” When she deemed that they were ready, she fiddled with something on her person and Rat’s cuffs linked via a glowing orange beam. He squawked and tried to part his hands, but the beam stopped him from getting them more than a few inches apart. “Get in the side car,” Moira ordered, then turned to Hog. “You’re driving. I’ll be at your back.”

Junkrat looked to Hog for assurance, expression uneasy. He wished he didn’t have his mask on for once so he could give some kind of comforting look, but all he could offer was a small nod. Junkrat disarmed his traps and they all hopped into place while Moira strapped their weapons to the rear of the motorcycle. Both of them were surprised she was bringing their armaments along considering the lengths she went to disarm them in the first place.

Finally she sat, behind Hog, drawing a sidearm and pressing it to the small of his back. while reaching around to grab onto Hog’s belt for support. Wordlessly, they took off into the night, heading for the enormous silhouette of the omnium that loomed on the distant horizon.

Hours went by and Junkrat felt like he was going to explode. Hands bound, stuck in the sidecar, he could hardly even fidget, and he didn’t dare let himself ramble. All he had was the endless noise of his own mind. He went over what happened repeatedly, visualizing how he could have prevented it or what would have been better reactions to the situation. And then there was the question of Moira and– Mako. She’d known his name from the start and he had only given Rat his fancy name after knowing Rat for months! And what was a liberator in this context? And what was that little cryptic conversation at the end?

It was rattling around so hard he just wanted to scream. He slumped deeper into the sidecar and threw his head back against the edge. The thunk of the shift caught Hog’s attention. Looking over at Junkrat, he knew the problem immediately. Clearing his throat, he felt Moira react behind him, “You think we could stop for breakfast?”

A pause, then, “Yea sounds good.”

They sat eating together, both Hog and Rat with their hands bound, but at least she’d let Junkrat run a few laps while she and Hog watched. But that plasma shotgun was always out, always trained on Roadhog or him.  
Curiosity got the better of him and she seemed relatively calm, so he piped up, “Sooo, Do you guys go back or something?” She looked up from her ration to stare at him. Her eyes were so piercing it made his skin crawl. She reminded him of Hog with her body that was thick and strong even with the standard malnourishment that came with Outback living. So when she finally answered it confirmed his suspicions.

“I met him once or twice before the explosion.” Rat nodded, but stopped when she continued, “It was at A.L.F. meetings.”

“You was with the Australian Liberation Front?” He was staring at Roadhog both amazed and confused.

Moira looked at Hog also. “You never told him?” Roadhog stayed silent, considering what to say next. He tried not looking at Rat because he was certain that his partner thought he’d been hiding that fact. Well, maybe he had.

“Don’t like to talk about it. Doesn’t matter now anyways.”

“Aw mate! Why wouldn’t ye wanna talk about it? A.L.F. done did their best to help all the folks in the Outback. All you guys are like the Aussie Robin Hoods!”

Moira stared daggers at Hog, who glanced away, lips pursed in a thin line. “Nothing good came of it. We failed.”

“Well,” Rat plunked his chin into his bound, cupped hands contemplatively, “least ya took some omnics ‘fore the thing went off.”

Their break was ended shortly after and then they were back on the bike. Moira leaned in close as they rode, talking into his ear so it couldn’t be drowned out by the wind, “I can’t believe you’re running from what we did. You’re dragging this kid around by the nose and not even telling him we ruined his fucking life.”

“You tell everyone you meet that little detail?” he muttered back.

“I tell the people close to me. I told Chloe.” The gun pressed harder against his back. “And the girl before her.”

“We’re not that close,” he lied.

“You hire out an entire raiding party to save him and you think I’ll believe that for a second?” He didn’t respond. “He has a right to know if you have your eye on him.”

“Shut the hell up.” That came out a little too loud making Rat look over, eyeing the way Moira’s head was obscured just past Hog’s. She jabbed him in the kidney with the muzzle of the gun, making him grunt and flinch.

“So I’m guessing you’d hate it if I told him, huh?” He couldn’t stop himself from tensing. It was one thing for him to tell Rat and go through whatever would come next, but another for the kid to hear it from a stranger. Moira gave a quick, bitter laugh. “Secrets are weaknesses too Mako. You should know that by now.” He says nothing. “Well then, cooperate on this and I won’t say a word.” He grit his teeth and accelerated, pissed off that she had something on him. Even more pissed off that her words about telling Rat made sense.

Junkrat watched their quiet exchange, noticing how Hog’s knuckles went white on the handlebars. When Moira sat back normally her face was drawn tight with a pensive furrow. Her eyes went to him immediately and they gazed at each other. Rat stared blankly, willing himself not to look away even as her dark eyes bored into his skull. But then she broke out into a quiet smile with an almost pitying look. It unnerved him. God what had they talked about? It set his paranoia aflame.

That was why he stayed up that night even as Roadhog said he was hitting the hay and there was dead silence for over an hour as Moira stayed up staring into the fire. But he heard Hog get up and that made his chest tense painfully. Something was up and he couldn’t even talk to his partner about it thanks to their new overseer.

“So it was pretty bad? For Turner?” Hog asked quietly, sitting down by the fire. Moira tensed, leather gloves creaking as her grip on the shotgun tightened. Roadhog could see the anger in her eyes, but her words came calm.

“She lost an eye, but she’s adapting fast.”

Swallowing thickly under that accusatory stare, Hog never liked Turner, but the image of the usually straight laced suit holding big, leather skinned, messy Moira gave him a new perspective on the woman. “I’m sorry that happened. I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

“Haven’t been thinking about others much at all have you,” she hissed, eyes flicking over to Junkrat’s back. “She wrote into their contracts that you had to come back with them to keep them from killing you and your little tagalong. And you ditched us.”

“Didn’t you tell her that I just left?”

“She has to follow contracts to the letter. She’s not allowed to be kind.” Moira slumped, running a hand through her grey streaked hair. “But I should have made her. I should have been with her.” A long pause. Her shoulders heaved. “I hate you. You’re just another fucking broken junker now aren’t you?”  
He watched her seethe and grieve silently. “I am. I used to think the phrase a shadow of a man was bad prose, but I’m just as ruined as this wasteland.”

Moira looked up, eyes shining with moisture. “I hate this place. I hate looking at every last person here. They just remind me of how badly we fucked it all up. I don’t know how you can bear to look at him every day.”

With a heavy sigh, the familiar click of Hog undoing his mask caught Rat’s ears. He faced Moira bare–faced. “When I see him I feel like maybe we didn’t really ruin everything. Listen, do you think we can cut a deal? I want to get out of here too. I want to give Rat everything he should have had. We’ll get that treasure out together and get our partners out of this hell hole.”

She stared at him, at his scars and his wrinkles. God they were both so tired. His words held more feeling than she expected, the way his face softened speaking about Junkrat and the tiniest curl of a smile. When he finished he looked to her for an answer. She held his gaze. Chloe always told her it was creepy how she would stare people down like this, but she just always felt she could find the truth in people’s eyes.

“I guess I got you back good enough already. But I’m not taking those off or giving you back your weapons. Not until this is done. And what I said before stands. If you try anything I’ll tell him.”

Junkrat lay there, fingers in his mouth, biting down as his head swirled over Hog’s words about him. The words sounded so pretty. Everyone wished they could leave the Outback, but suddenly it seemed possible. And Hog was going to give it to him. Hadn’t he heard that somewhere before? Give you the world? His heart did a little jig in his chest when Moira agreed, but it froze on that last sentence. Tell him what?

“Got it,” came Hog’s deep voice. “Thank you Moira.”

Roadhog put his mask back on while Moira fiddled with her gun, finally asking, “Why haven’t you told him anyways? If he’s so important?”

A bloated pause followed. “I’m scared.” Roadhog cupped his forehead and sighed. “I don’t want him to hate me.”

Moira grunted and let it drop.

Rat stared out into the night, stomach twisting with mixed emotions. Something he would hate Hog for? Everything his mind brought him terrified him and he threw away each one because it just didn’t fit, but when he’d run through them all he just went through the list again. But then he’d think about those sweet words Hog said and his heart would flutter. Whatever it was Hog had to be overreacting he decided.


	23. All Your Shit is Fucked

Days passed like this. Silent day long rides toward the ever looming omnium. Then at night when they thought he was asleep, Roadhog and Moira would sit up and chat, reminiscing about life before the meltdown, about people they used to know. It seemed that Moira was somehow staying up night after night, because not once was there an opportunity for Rat to speak to Roadhog alone.

What was worse is that when he’d stay up and try to talk to them both, they were both tight lipped and avoidant. They hadn’t even mentioned the deal they’d struck. Junkrat didn’t really want to reveal he’d spying on them, but there was only so much he could take. The radio silence between him and Hog, the secrets, the way he seemed to become someone else entirely when speaking to Moira, all of it was driving Junkrat up the wall.

He gave it one more shot, to crack them open so he wouldn’t be the third wheel here. The three of them sat by the fire, Rat nibbling away on the last of a roasted lizard he’d caught. Moira sat away from them both, gun cradled in her arms. To his side Hog sat watching the fire, light reflecting off his lenses to Rat couldn’t even try to look in.

“So how many more days you think it’ll be ‘fore we get there?” he said, breaking the silence.

“Maybe another three,” Hog offered.

Nodding, he looked to Moira. “Gonna stay up all night again? Tryin’ to die or somethin’? Well I mean, aside from the death wish that’s goin’ into the omnium.” He giggled at his own joke and only got a hard glance in from Moira return.

“I’m serious, the outside’s alright, but deeper in the air is bad and the heat’s unbearable. I woulda turned back if I could, but I weren’t able. That’s even if we can find how I got in there again.”

Moira sighed and shifted. “You’re doing a bad job of pretending you can’t get us in there with all those bombs strapped to the bike. As for the rest, we’ll manage.”

“Manage? I done lost half me mind from goin’ in there! Ya want me to lose more?” He smashed his fists against the earth indignantly at how she brushed him off.

She gave him a confused look then turned to Roadhog, who was watching Junkrat. “His short term memory was damaged by the radiation.”

Looking back at Rat, Moira gave him that pitying expression again and it inflamed his ego. His hands balled up, nails pressing half moon indents into his palms. Her eyes traveled over him, noting his hair and thin frame. “You’ve really gotten the short end of the stick out here haven’t you?” she said, eyes falling to his prosthetic.

Junkrat jumped to his feet eyes wide, catching the firelight. With teeth bared, he roared, “Don’t you fucking look at me like I’m half a man! I’ve had it up to here with you guys prattling on about how fucking shit it is out here, about how fucking pitiful the rest of us are!” He was practically doubled over, ready to dive at her from across the campfire. His mind was buzzing with angry, paranoid thoughts. They’d been building and building since that first night he’d listened in.

Two heavy hands caught him, pulling him back. “Calm down,” Hog said. Rat jumped and twisted out of his grip, stumbling to the ground. He screeched to himself as he clamored up from his hands and knees to face Roadhog.

“Why you suddenly so chummy with her, huh? Why you been waitin’ til you think I’m asleep to talk? Cutting deals behind my back without askin’? I thought we were partners! I thought we was friends!” He hammered his hands to his chest with each sentence, trembling with days of unspent energy and pent up anxiety. He searched that blank mask, wishing for once that he could see Hog plainly.

Roadhog stood still watching Rat’s face twist into a desperate, pained expression that pulled a wave of nausea from his gut. How much had Junkrat heard? How much did he know? He took a step forward only for Junkrat to step back, lip curling angrily at his silence.

“I waited and waited. Waited for you to clue me in. To say a damn word to me!” Junkrat’s voice was hoarse from screaming, the night ringing with his bitterly spat words. He glared at Roadhog, waiting still for an answer.

Like a deer caught in the headlights, fear ate away at Hog, heart thumping heavy in his chest, tapping out an S.O.S. to himself. He didn’t know what to say, he had thought he could just breeze through this and carry Rat off into the wide world beyond the wastes. He had just wanted one last taste of who Mako was and knew too.

He was jolted out of his petrified trance by a heavy hit to the back of the head by a rock thrown by Moira. Rat didn’t notice. He only had eyes for Hog, body sagging slowly under the weight of his disappointment with each passing silent second. Hog looked back at where the rock came from and saw her frowning fiercely then gave a sharp jerk of her head back toward Junkrat.

“So what you ask her for permission to speak to me now too?” Rat said, grimacing over how he couldn’t even hold Roadhog’s attention now.

Turning back, Hog’s mouth worked silently, trying to find the shape of his words. “I’m sorry,” he rumbled at last. Another painful pause as Junkrat said nothing in return. “I was being selfish. I miss life from before, but I shouldn’t have neglected the life I have now. And as for the deal, I guess I wanted to act like a hero and sweep you out of here.”

Junkrat softened, hands uncurling and shoulders dropping, but he still stood his ground. Roadhog new how to say the best little things, but he couldn’t forgive his partner just like that. “And the secret you’ve been hiding. The one Moira knows. Tell me.”

His heart felt like it had been grabbed right in his chest. “I can’t,” Hog choked out, swallowing against the lump in his throat ineffectively.

That answer riled Rat up again. With his nostrils flared and brows furrowed, he stepped in, staring Hog down. “The hell you can’t you porky son of a bitch. If not now when, huh?”

“After. When we’re out of here. I’ll tell you.”

“No!” Rat stomped up to him, taking advantage of his height to crane his head up toward the lenses of the mask. “I’ve had E fuckin’ Nough! Yer me only mate in this whole wide fuck off place and you tryin’ to hide somethin’ you think would make me hate you? That–“ his heart jumped violently as the thought came moments before his words and made it hard to breathe evenly, “that, that scares me too.” As soon as the words left his mouth he pursed his lips and tried not to hyperventilate.

Under his mask, Hog blinked blankly, lips parted in an unseen gape. The tension in his chest doubled to a crushing, painful force. Guilt and fear gripped him and replayed for him the worst of his days alone, played a future where instead of getting to run off into the modern world with Junkrat at his side he had to watch Moira and Turner have their happy ending while he stood alone.

When did being alone become so scary? Probably ever since he started thinking about things as we instead of I. He forced himself to look into those probing amber eyes. As much as he didn’t want to, this forced his hand. Moira had been right. He shouldn’t have hidden this. If he’d brought it up as soon as he’d given up on stealing from Rat it wouldn’t hurt like it did now. What was more, it wasn’t fair to Junkrat.

“Okay,” he breathed quietly. Junkrat stiffened, surprised that Hog gave in so easy. Turning to Moira, he continued, “Mind if we have a minute alone?”

She stood up and started trotting off toward the bike which sat a good ways off from their camp. As she passed him, she placed a hand discretely on his back. He wasn’t sure if it was meant to be reassuring or sympathetic.

When the sound of her footsteps no longer reached them, Roadhog reached back and pulled off his mask. They stared at each other for a while, Rat trying to discern his friend’s thoughts from the way Hog’s brows were turned down, how his lips were pulled into a tight grimace. Finally he let his weight down to the ground, sitting in a loose criss cross, massaging his knees anxiously. Junkrat followed his lead and sat down as well.

Closing his eyes, Hog took a deep breath even though the smoky air burned his lungs. “When I was a part of the A.L.F. we thought we could push back the omnics at first, but as the months dragged on it became clear that we were chasing a pipe dream. It didn’t matter how many omnics I hooked, even if we killed fifty for every man the fact was that when we lost someone we couldn’t just rebuild them. Our ranks were dwindling and some of us were just giving up.”

Junkrat stared Hog down with an uncharacteristically stern expression. He chewed his lip while listening, clearly impatient, but giving Roadhog the time needed to explain himself.

“So we had to find a way to stop them from making more omnics. We had to find a way to destroy the omnium.”

Slowly, Rat’s face shifted into one of disbelief and realization. His big eyes wavered from Hog’s face to the dirt under them. His throat felt tight as his mind connected the dots of the story being told to him. Still he bit his tongue, waiting to hear it from the source.

“We fucked it up. We triggered the meltdown.” Rat watched Roadhog turn his face down and away, thick fingers gripping the flesh of his thighs so tightly they were shaking. The light of the campfire cast a fleeting glint of light on the tear that ran down and off Hog’s nose. “The blood of every man, woman, and child that died then and since is on our hands. My hands.” More tears spattered into the dirt beneath. Saying it out loud finally uncorked a flood of regret and self–loathing.

Junkrat stared at the Hog, watching him shake lightly with subdued sobs. He thought of River. Their desperate loathing of the world outside the Outback. He remembered playing as children, whispering about how they would burn down the world that had taken their families from them. He closed his eyes and tried to remember the face of his mother and father. It was a faded memory, but when he recalled a particular day, a particular embrace, he could still smell her shampoo.

He felt empty. There was a hollowness in him that he didn’t know what to do with. Where was his anger? His grief? Instead he was left so numb that it hurt. He could feel himself shutting down, too tired, too burdened to deal with this. To deal with watching Roadhog crying quietly. For someone who seemed so emotionless under that mask, he was far better at expressing himself than Junkrat, who could be said to wear his heart on his sleeve. Rat still envied him, even more now that Hog was still emoting even after all this time and meanwhile here he was, just a shell.

Hog listened to the crunch of earth as Junkrat got up and started to walk away. He stopped briefly to say, “Fuckin’ pull yourself together.” The limped off toward the motorcycle.

Moira watched Junkrat approach, eyes downcast and jaw tense. She crawled out from his sidecar and waited for him to reach her. “If you were listening in that night then you know that he thinks the world of you.” Rat looked up from beneath his thick brows to glare at her.

“There’s a lot less world thanks to you two.”

The cold venom of his words cut deep, but she wouldn’t flinch. She deserved it anyways. “You’re right. It’s a mistake we can never take back. But we lost people too. We weren’t untouched. I made my peace with what happened, but Mako hasn’t.” Junkrat strode past her and hopped into his sidecar avoiding her gaze. “He doesn’t know it, but he seeks redemption through you.”

Junkrat didn’t answer, just turned over and curled up against the dry leather seat. Sleep wasn’t going to come, but he didn’t care, he just wanted to be alone. Moira watched him for a few moments longer before walking back to the campfire. There she found Mako strapping his mask on slowly. She opened her mouth to speak, but decided against it. Hog sat motionless across from her with no signs he would lay down tonight. As the fire dwindled, she opted not to take her supplements and went to sleep.


	24. The World Still Turns

The following morning was painfully quiet. Tension between them all was so thick you could drown in it. And it took all Roadhog’s strength not to. His eyes stung from both crying and subsequently staring into space all night. He had wallowed in self loathing, mentally berating himself and contemplating finally blowing his head off. These thoughts had come to him in the past, but he had run from them bodily.

As they rode on toward the omnium, Junkrat deliberately not even glancing his way, Roadhog started to accept that he was alone again. He had ruined this for them both and deserved it. The drive felt longer and even more exhausting than ever. He found himself missing the little outbursts and grumbles that helped pass the time before.

The deathly silence continued the next day and the day after. The omnium loomed over them, tall twisted metal that scraped the very sky above. A grim reminder of what the liberators had wrought and for Rat, what he had lost. It was the veritable knife to the heart for the Outback and looked the part.

They parked the bike in the shade of a monstrous shard embedded in the dirt. Moira wordlessly undid their strange shackles and handed them their weapons. For a moment Junkrat contemplated killing them both. He could picture it with ease, a spray of red as the bombs went off, bots and pieces flying high and smearing against the metal behind them. But he didn’t really want that.

He had thought long and hard about this. He definitely wanted to leave the Outback no matter what. There was nothing here for him any more, or ever was he supposed. After that first night he’d fumed and turned his anger inward. Picked his gums until they bled, scratched his leg until it bled, punched the sidecar so hard it dented when the anger was overwhelming.

Now as they stood ready to assault this castle of death he felt determined. Roadhog was right about one thing, Junkrat deserved a better life, and he was going to take it. Then he was going to make the world burn even just a little bit for leaving him out here to rot. Rat understood River’s rage now even if they’d really been a nasty cunt about it. So he grabbed a mess of mines off the back of the bike and led them to where he’d wriggled his way into the depths of the omnium once before.

“Holy shit,” Moira coughed out after Rat blew away the rubble that kept everyone bigger than himself from squeezing through. “You really know your way around a bomb.”

“And don’t you forget it,” he growled back, leading the way into the bowels of the place. The three crawled in under a mess of caved in ceilings. More often than not Rat had to go ahead on his own and place explosives along the way to open the crawlspace enough that even Hog could get through.

The feeling of metal pressed tight to his body brought back the memories of when he’d gotten trapped in here before. If he were honest with himself it had probably been the single most terrifying experience of his life. The prospect of starving to death, alone in the dark, had shaped him into a darker man. It had strengthened the ruthless, bloodthirsty part of him that was more than happy to rip someone else apart so he could live just a little longer.

Roadhog watched him desperately. Every time Rat had to go ahead alone, Hog was consumed with worry. While he knew that the kid could handle anything, what he was afraid of was being ditched without a final goodbye. Even now he was struggling to accept that after this mission he would part ways with Rat. What would he even say when the time came?

Slowly but surely they finally hit the undamaged level Junkrat had come across that first time. It was dark even though it had to be midday outside. The air was stale and smelled of chemicals. Moira choked on it, not expecting the burn in her nose and throat. Rat had prepared for it by tying a bit a cloth about his face. The place looked just like it had last time. Dusty, dank, and creepy. The only light source was the glow of Moira’s plasma gun which cast an unsettling orange filter to the desolate room.

She followed Rat’s lead and tied her handkerchief around her face. Soon after she reached into her bag and tossed him a glowstick, he broke it and produced a brighter orange light. “When I came through ‘ere the first time I thought what was in the next room was right strange, but maybe not anymore,” he said, staring at the hallway that led out.

Hog and Moira looked at each other before lining up behind Rat. He kept his eyes dead ahead instead of letting them dart at everything. Ever since getting the truth from Hog he found a reservoir of self–control he’d thought he’d lost ages ago. He probably only found it because he was so determined not to so much as flinch in front of him now. More than anything he found himself most hurt over having let himself be so vulnerable in front of Roadhog.

They stepped through and found themselves in a partially molten cavern. It had clearly been its own room once but the wall to the right had been blown away as was the past that. On and on all the way to the center of the omnium where no light reached. To the left, the wall, which had managed to hold on against the blast had an outline of a human form. Like a death shroud with no body it was pitch black and unnaturally accurate. Moira frowned, lips set into a hard line, nostrils flaring lightly. Roadhog walked to the wall, placing his hand into the center of the silhouette. The wall was cold, heartbreakingly so. He had almost expected there to be a lingering warmth. Tracing its edge, he carved the image into memory, mentally reciting the names of the men and women who’d been sent in here that day. He could guess at who this had been, but knowing for sure was impossible.

Junkrat watched how gently his companion touched the wall and had to look away. Even with the mask it was easy to see how much this pained him. Rat had been scared to death of the outline the first time he’d come down here. Delirious and starving, it had whispered to him. He hadn’t been able to understand the words in his head then, but now he wondered if it was the liberator’s ghost.

After Hog delivered his silent goodbyes they pushed on. Skirting the edge of the core blast, they wound through to less damaged parts of the omnium. As the hours went on Rat started feeling lightheaded just like last time. The air had something bad in it. He could see Moira was feeling it too. She would hold her head sometimes, eyes unfocused, before pushing on.

Though they no longer had the sun and moon to tell them the time, they could guess it by the ache in their bodies. Sitting down to camp, they were left with little to do. From here on out their food would be dry rations. And unable to build a fire they would have to simply endure the chill of metal under them. The day ended as silently as it had begun. It was hard for all of them to find sleep, thanks both to the emotional distress of the day and the days before and the uncomfortable floor.  
By day three inside the place, the liberators finally came to understand just how huge the omnium was. It was one thing to see its towering exterior, but its interior stretched on for ages.

“You sure you know where you’re going?” Moira asked again, eyeing the mutated plant life that pushed through the cracks here and there.

“Ye asked me to bring ye here and now you’re just gonna question me all the damn time?” Rat snapped. He looked back at her, face contorted into a snarl. The orange light did nothing kind to his complexion. He looked more feral than ever. Roadhog had noticed that this place bothered him. He noticed how Rat’s breathing was erratic without any exertion. How he’d itch at himself compulsively. None of them felt particularly well thanks to the radiation, but Rat had already gotten a dose before. It worried Hog.

“It’s been days. Count me a little worried.”

“Gives ye a little taste of how much it sucked to have to find my way outta here the first time.” He knelt on the ground and touched an innocuous etching in the wall. “Made these to keep from getting’ turned around. Probably not the most direct route through, but ‘s better than nothing.”

Moira grunted approvingly. “And you ate these?” she reached above him and tugged at the deformed bush sprouting from a crack in the wall. He looked up at it with an exaggerated gag.

“Yep. Sucked the nasty water in them weird bulbs they got.”

She found one of the bulbs he was referring to and bit into it carefully. A revolted grimace followed by a violent shake of the head as she swallowed. “Good God man that’s disgusting!” Grating her tongue against her top teeth, Moira spat the remains of the plant out. “It’s so bitter.”

Nodding, Rat dusted off his hands on his knees. “Kept me from dyin’ though.”

Roadhog stood silently by as they talked casually. It seemed a week was long enough for Junkrat to let himself talk to Moira with a semblance of normality. At least if it was about their mission here. But he still refused to say a word to Roadhog. He’d asked a couple simple questions while they had been down here but gotten the cold shoulder. The one time he’d offered their leader the canteen Rat had deliberately taken it so that their fingers wouldn’t so much as brush.

Honestly it was slowly killing him. Every glance away, every frown. And now every word he spoke to Moira. It slowly hammered the nail deeper into his heart. While the admission itself had been a strange relief, almost a religious experience. This subsequent change was exactly what he’d feared. The weight of his guilt seemed to double each day and it grew harder to imagine life when they left this skeleton of a place.

From the edge of his gaze Rat could see that way Hog would go stiff and turn away. He relished in hurting Hog like this. By ignoring him and by not ignoring Moira, Junkrat deliberately twisted the knife, relishing in his quiet vengeance. In truth what he wanted to do was scream and beat Roadhog with his fists, but that was too intimate, too close to normal for them. So instead he would hurt him this way.

“We’re here,” Junkrat finally said. It had been over a week since they’d come down into this wreckage of a place. And now Rat was announcing they’d reached their goal. What they found before them was some kind of production area. Broken pieces of omnics were scattered about, some still whole and hanging from the hooks they were being carried through on. Most were misshapen from the heat of the meltdown, forms twisting into uncanny positions.

“Found me leg in here!” he said to no one in particular and wiggling the prosthetic. “Along with the batteries.”

“Why didn’t you take more?” Moira asked. “They’re so small you could have taken a hundred.”

Rat sighed heavily. “Didn’t know what they was. Took a bit of everything along the way. Figured it out when I was miles away.” He limped toward the broken conveyer belt and hopped it as gracefully as a man who had the posture of an 80–year–old could. He looked about, tapping his chin as he looked over the wide expanse of the far wall. It was covered in perfectly symmetrical hex shaped cabinets from floor to ceiling. There were so many one couldn’t count. To the side was a broken down omnic gadget clearly made for accessing these cabinets as needed.

Turning back to face them, but eyes locked on Moira, he bit his lower lip, sharp teeth protruding in that just so Junkrat way. “So uh, problem here is I don’t know which one o’ these I got ‘em from.”

Both liberators looked up slowly, heads tilting back as they gauged how high up the wall went. “Why are they all closed?” she asked when her head snapped back down.

“Just how they do.” He shrugged and went over to one, opening it wide then releasing. The door swung shut slowly of its own accord. “Don’t see a spring outside but could be on in there or maybe a magnet? Who knows didn’t bother to take it apart to figure it out.”

“We’re going to die before we find those things.” Moira meant for it to be light hearted, but the grim silence turned it otherwise. She cleared her throat and chuckled uncomfortably. “Well, might as well get started.” From her pocket she pulled out a large knife and spun it casually. “Mark the ones you check so we don’t go repeating this shit.” The other two grunted in agreement.

“Can we at least eliminate the high up ones,” she asked as they all approached to do their work.

Junkrat shook his head and turned and pointed to the hooked chains scattered across the ceiling with omnics on them. “Some those can come down if ye toggle the switch. Used ‘em to climb up and root around. But I mean couldn’t get to most the top ones, so at least there’s that.”

“At least.”


	25. Tremors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for drug use

It didn’t take long for the three of them to loathe the process of opening the little doors, root around, close, and mark them. At least each one seemed to contain solely the one piece they were assigned. Junkrat enjoyed it a good bit more though given behind each door was a new trinket. But even that novelty couldn’t withstand the endless repetition of it all. For Roadhog it was an awful chore, but precisely the kind one could mindlessly do, a respite from his inner turmoil. For Moira it just sucked, but with Chloe in her thoughts she worked as quickly as possible.

By the end of the day they were all exhausted despite the work not being all that intense. For once since that night the silence between them all is comfortable. From behind the safety of his mask, Hog watched Rat lay on his side, toying with some omnic parts he’d pocketed throughout the day. Rat looked calm, tongue poking out and brows furrowed in concentration. Seeing him acting at least a little bit like he used to soothed Hog in a way.

Even if things couldn’t go back to how they had been, he could at least hope that Junkrat could go back to living his life how he wanted. And after this Rat could live it out there with the rest of the world. Reflecting on their time together it was probably more than a bit foolish to think it would a long–term relationship anyways. People come and go out of each other’s lives. It was embarrassing to think about just how easy it had been to develop feelings for Rat. Would it have been the same if it were just anyone? Was it just proximity that had drawn out this desire for intimacy?

Rolling over, Hog settled on no. Rat was a flame. Someone full of life and possibility to grow ever brighter while he was– burned out. Most people out here were just that, burned or stamped out. But Junkrat was still going strong. Even the news he’d delivered couldn’t put out the kid’s fire. Even in the wake of his sad acceptance of the state of their relationship, Roadhog could feel his chest warm and tighten over these fond thoughts of Rat.

The decision to accept the state of things made the next day change. Rat noticed it in how Hog wouldn’t tense at the sound of his voice. How he wouldn’t turn away when he spoke to Moira. How Hog no longer gave him a wide berth. But even with these changes Hog didn’t try touching him or speaking to him.

The change irritated him. He still didn’t feel sated with the amount of petty revenge he’d enacted. But at the same time he wasn’t nearly as upset about it as he expected he would be. Well he had more important stuff to do anyways. Rat took to checking all the topmost ones while the other two finished off the easily reached cabinets.

“Somehow I get the feeling it will be the last one we check,” Moira sighed, wiping her brow as she slashed the front of another cabinet.

“I feel like I’m working a nine to five again,” Hog muttered back, finding a pile of fingertips in his.

She snorted lightly, happy to hear his voice again. “Feelin’ better?”

He froze and briefly considered it. “I’ve been mad at myself a long time. I still am. Always will be.” He scraped his spiked glove against the cabinet and moved onto the next one.

Moira did the same, nodding at his words. “It weren’t our faults though. I forgave myself. Why can’t you?”

“I couldn’t even forgive myself for leaving home. Then I ruined the one I made here– I just can’t. Not when I could have…” he trailed off and moved onto the next door.

Moira looked off and away as if she could see past the walls of the omnium. “You from New Zealand?”

“A kiwi bastard til I die.”

She hummed, a tiny smile on her lips. “Leave any family there?”

“Did. But they passed while I was away. And now we’re here. You got anyone?”

“A kid. Had her real young and the state took her. Wonder where she is now.”

Roadhog looked up at Moira who lifted her head to meet it though his eyes were inscrutable. “You gonna go look for her?” he asked softly.

Moira breathed a tired laugh and shook her head. “I got no right to barge into her life now. Maybe I’ll try and get a picture of her or something, but no.”

They let their conversation drop. It was hard not to speak of depressing things given their only connection was one that ended in misery. Still neither was put off by the topics they discussed. The quiet that they’d settled into however was soon interrupted by sudden shaking. Under their feet the earth moved of its own will and the loose chains and hanging omnics rattled noisily. Deep in the ground as they were, surrounded by metal, the walls creaked and in the distance loud clattering as heavy items tumbled and fell.

Above Junkrat yelped as the chains he held on swung violently. He was neither prepared nor particularly good at climbing given his peg leg couldn’t help him entangle himself in the chain. His grip on the cabinet door he’d been rooting through gave way and he found himself unable to hold up the weight of himself and his heavy prosthetic with just one hand.

Looking up when he heard Rat shout, Hog drew his hook with blinding speed and launched it. The world still shook under him, but his low center of gravity didn’t fail him. He snatched Rat out of the air, yanking him in to catch him with his free arm. With his palm engulfing Junkrat’s chest he held him carefully. Rat’s eyes were glazed with pain from the spikes piercing his side, teeth gritted as he tried not to move lest he tear himself open more.

When the earthquake ceased just as suddenly as it had come on, then Hog slowly pulled the Hook from his companion. Junkrat gasped and twinged as the long spikes drew out of him. A heavy splash of blood hit the ground, tainting the air with the scent of iron. And with it, the hook, cast aside to tend to Rat. Hog could smell it and the disgusting chemical staleness that the two had been struggling through as he pulled off his mask. He opted to just hold his breath as he pressed the mask to Rat’s face. Without a word, Junkrat took it, waiting for the relief he knew would come.

Taking his last hogdrogen, Roadhog pressed it into place and twisted. He could hear and feel Junkrat take a deep shuddering breath that soon eased back to normal. Hog looked down at Rat’s side and saw the wounds seal up. He could feel the canister empty out, so he set Rat back down carefully and took his mask back.

Once he was released Junkrat ran his fingers over his side, feeling the place where the hook had been lodged in him just a minute ago. Looking up at the chains, he imagined what an impact from that high up might have been like. Probably not lethal, but probably worse than some deep punctures. Broken bones that might have splintered or twisted.

He gave Hog a furtive look, but the big guy was already looking away to see what the quake had done to the room. Hog didn’t expect a thank you and was honestly just hoping to avoid being spat or screamed at for touching Rat much less sinking his hook into him. To his relief the smaller man remained quiet and just backed off, also glancing at the omnics that had been shaken loose from their hooks and the large crack where two plates that had formed the ceiling had parted just enough to let a pile dirt fall through.

“Shit,” Moira muttered to herself. The other two felt much the same. Earthquakes had become fairly regular in the Outback since the meltdown. But being underground and at the possible epicenter of them was terrifying in a way that even they hadn’t experienced before.

“We gotta find those things soon,” Hog said, turning back at the wall of yet unopened cabinets.

Moira flipped open a pouch on her waist and was about to speak, when Rat interjected. “Oh Christ, look!” He pointed into the hallway they’d come from and ran toward it. He stopped less than halfway there, realizing the futility of it. The hallway had caved in. He looked back at them both with wide–eyed panic. His heart hammered as he imagined being trapped in this cold, metal encased hell again.

Moira looked to Roadhog, unsure of what to say. He glanced at her and understood. He’d seen these expressions before in A.L.F. When things were uncertain he had been turned to before to be the stability. Right now the idea of it tired him. He was too old to be relied on again, but there was no one else these two could count on.

“We find the batteries now. If we don’t get them we came down here for nothing. Moira you were going to say something about that?”

She snapped back down to her pouch and yanked something out, In her palm were three fat pills. “This is what I’ve been using to stay awake. They’re hyper stimulants. Highly addictive and with bad side effects, but without sleep plus increased energy and focus we can blow through this.”

Roadhog wanted to ask about her health. She’d used these the whole time they’d been together with the exception of that one night. But now wasn’t the time.

“Alright.” He walked to her and grabbed the pill, dry swallowing it. Rat stood apart, apprehensive and a good bit more unnerved, but he limped back over to them and took one as well. Moira took the last one and they set back to work with renewed vigor.

In under Rat and Hog both felt the stim hit them hard. For Rat he was certain he was going to vibrate out of his skin. His mind had never been so clear nor had he ever felt so strong. Every cabinet he opened his mind presented a hundred concepts on new things to build using the pieces inside or to upgrade his pre existing designs. They ran like background noise as he opened, closed and marked each one rapidly. For Hog, he his muscles twitching and begging for more intense use. He sweat heavily despite the coolness of the air and found himself crunching the cabinets under his fist as he marked them. He decided to just go ahead and punch them closed to relieve the excess energy.

Moira was used to the sensation of the stims. But she checked on her partners frequently, worrying over them. The drugs were strong and the first time was always the roughest. Particularly when they wore off. But if they could find those damn batteries sooner and get the hell out it would probably be worth it.

They found them countless hours later. In a mid level cabinet you could only access by climbing up the broken down omnic arm that once operated these doors, they found their prize. Rat screamed with delight when he opened it up and pulled them out, tossing them like confetti. The tiny things pitter–pattered on the ground. Moira was almost in tears as she picked up a handful. The image she had of her and Chloe walking freely on a sunny day by the beach suddenly felt that much more real. God she could almost smell the ocean again if she held the batteries tight enough.

Hopping down heavily with an armful of them, Rat cackled, still high off the stim. “Hooley dooly we ain’t just gonna be citizens of the new world out there we gonna be the richest damn cunts they ever met too!” He kept laughing and rubbed the batteries on his face, kissing them with emphatic mwahs.

Even Hog found it in him to chuckle as Rat let himself down to make snow angels in the mess of dropped batteries. Moira laughed softly too as she stuffed her pockets with the tiny things. The three of them basked in their own relief enhanced by the high of the stims as they collected them off the ground until not one was left. But once they were collected they faced the issue of their return.

“Can’t you just blow it open?” Moira asked.

Rat made an uneasy grimace, fingers twitching of their own accord. “It could just bring down more of it on top of us if it ain’t stable.”

“I think we may have to take that chance,” Hog said as he dug out the area to expose the damages.

Junkrat breathed deep. He was still angry, but right now he couldn’t place his desire to pretend Hog didn’t exist over his need to to leave this place. And that required cooperation. “What if the whole way’s been closed off?”

Hog looked back at Rat. It was the first words he’d said to Hog directly since the confession. It made him happy, even if it was likely only coerced thanks to these extenuating circumstances. “Then we’ll find another way. No omnium can hold us.”

That deep rasping voice was so certain, so strong, Rat felt comforted. His own resolve hardened. “Damn right. Got meself outta here the first time with nothing, we can get right back out no problem what with all this gear! Alright, get the hell outta the way I’m gonna blow this bitch open!”


	26. Get Fucked

Swallowing his fear, Junkrat placed his bombs and scampered away. Moira and Hog had already backed off. The three of them watched the exit with bated breath. With his fingers in his ears, Rat detonated. The room filled with dust, hiding the outcome of their escape attempt. As Junkrat and Moira coughed, Hog pressed ahead, eyes and lungs left clear thanks to his mask. Past the settling dust, relief came over him at the sight of the cleared tunnel. The path was worse for wear thanks to the quake, but it wasn’t collapsed.

His companions joined his side, mouths covered up and squinting, but they still found time to vocalize their relief. Rat laughing nervously and Moira sighing. Rat looked over at Hog’s broad back. He was stepping into the tunnel, testing the walls and floor with tentative stomps and taps. Junkrat stared, brows furrowing deeper the longer he looked. He could only take his own writhing emotions for so long and tore away his gaze, balling his fists and following after. Moira watched on silently.

Slowly the three of them pressed on, back from where they came. The walls were torn open slightly in the same manner as other parts had been, but they were evidently fresh given the crumbling earth that slipped from between the metal plates. Soon after starting their trek a few smaller aftershocks hit, giving them a collective heart attack. Junkrat took it the worst, eyes constantly flying up toward the ceiling a few feet up.

Without having Rat in front of him to get all weepy over, Hog felt relatively collected. He was still riding the little confidence boost of hearing Junkrat speak to him and of being relied upon to lead. It was a delicate balance, but he’d wallowed in his self–pity long enough these days to reforge that wall in himself. It was the same one he’d built after ruining the Outback. Grim acceptance of his own awfulness, forced apathy, optimism for the betterment of those he was to part ways with. It was on a foundation of self–loathing that Hog had been able to endure the trials of the wasteland the A.L.F. had made.

Their trip back was far more silent than before. Where on the way there Rat had been deliberately using Moira to hurt Hog, he now barely even hummed. Each of them listening for even the slightest shift in the earth around them.

By the end of the day both Rat and Hog felt more exhausted than they’d felt in a long time. It was both in body from lack of sleep, but also in mind. Whatever that stim was, they could both feel themselves draining, sparks of light spattering against the backs of their eyes and light tremors they couldn’t stop. Rat vomited shortly after they stopped for dinner and nausea sat deep in the pit of Roadhog’s gut, simmering with sudden spikes that threatened to push him over the edge. Moira watched on tensely and muttered quietly, “Withdrawal symptoms last twelve to twenty four hours.”

Wiping the back of his mouth, Rat stood back up, “You’ve got more don’t ya? Let’s keep goin’ on it til we out of here.”

They stared at him, Moira taken aback given how he’d just finished upheaving the food that he of all people needed the most. “You’re saying that because you’re getting the itch–“ she started.

“Like hell I am!” he growled through his teeth, sweeping an arm across in front of him to banish the thought. “If you think I’ll be able to sleep a damn wink in this pit trap you’re crackers. But if I can’t keep me meals down no way I’m gonna be able to keep pace we had comin’ in. ”

“Moira,” Hog rumbled, “I agree. I’ll take the consequences of taking more of these over staying in here. It’s nothing we can’t handle.”

She curled up on herself, hand clutching the roots of her thick hair. “You’ll probably need doctorin’ after. But let’s do it. You’re both fucking adults I guess.” As she looked up at them there was a small twisted smile. Hog suspected that this drug was one she’d been familiar with in ways she wasn’t fond of.

They all dosed up and immediately the symptoms reduced, then vanished. Rat relished in how his mind cleared again, freeing him from the brutal brain zaps he’d been struggling against for the past few hours. Days were cut from their trip as the three of them plowed back through the tunnels faster than they’d come in and without needing rest or sleep.

They were on the last stretch when they came upon another complete cave in. They stared at the wall of dirt, rock, and metal that separated them from freedom. Wordlessly, Moira and Hog looked back at Rat who bit his lip. He silently placed his charges, mind churning with fear over caving them in further or somehow worse, being unable to do anything about the blockage at all.

“Fire in the hole!” he called out from behind cover, detonating them. The hall shook and dust swept over them just like before. As it settled they rose up and all tension eased at the sight of the passable gap he’d made. Slipping through, slowly, they were in awe of how brutally torn up the rest of the hall was. It had been bad earlier, but closer to the surface now the earth was softer. What had been straight now was a sloping turn, metal plates the lined the walls, stretched and torn. Loose earth dripped from the cracks where plants didn’t hold it together.

They pushed on back to that same large room with the burned image of the dead man when another quake hit. It was violent, the floor visibly rippled off into the distance of toward the burned out core. The screech of shearing metal cut through the heavy rumble of shifting plates sending bolts of fear through each of them. Rat in particular could feel his heart hammering faster than it ever had, or ever should have. The stims kept his mind clear, but his body on edge. Struggling to keep himself upright, he looked to Hog instinctually for help.

Roadhog stood with his legs in a wide stance, waiting out the quake. With his mask on he looked patient and unphased. That pissed Rat off, everything about Hog pissed him off swallowed his thoughts as the shaking started to slow. Hog who’d lied to him, Hog who’d hid things from him, Hog who’d hurt him, Hog who he still couldn’t–

Like that Rat took off running. His eyes were locked on the quickly diminishing space between Roadhog and the sheet of metal above him. No peripheral vision. Rat knew this. It was dropping like guillotine. He should be letting it drop. Let the world that had suffered thanks to him finally rub out that fat bastard.

But just like that, he was pushing Hog over. He was off balance from the shaking or even with all his wirey strength Junkrat never could have budged him. But relief coursed through him as he watched Hog stumble backwards. Time caught up to him and so did the metal rubble. As he hit the ground the metal fragments crashed down on him.

Roadhog got one blink in before Rat screamed. His eyes were locked onto the mess of rubble before him that obscured Rat’s upper body. But there was no mistaking the splatter of blood that tinged what he could see. For a few moments he was paralyzed by fear just like when he’d been impaled in the face by shrapnel after the meltdown, but that was then and this was now.

Dropping to his knees, he started unearthing Junkrat. The man had stopped screaming, but his body was trembling and chest heaving. He cleared out the dirt around his head first. It wasn’t much but keeping his breathing clear was priority. Next he tossed aside the smaller pieces of metal that had clipped and torn up his back.

As he moved everything aside, he revealed where Rat’s arm came to a sudden stop. Like a magic trick, it disappeared into the largest piece of metal, but the slathering of blood on the ground evidenced that this was real. Rat was silent; eyes locked onto his stump and chest heaving. Tears rolled down his cheeks, but after his initial guttural scream, he’d swallowed all noise to focus on his breath. His mind kept muttering, Much easier than leg! Much much quicker! Warmth enveloped him, mind unable to process the amount of trauma his flesh had just endured.

As Hog took in the situation with the arm, Moira was on the other side pulling off more metal sheeting to find more arm. Swallowing thickly, Roadhog knew even without seeing the rest of it that there was no saving it. The mass of the rubble had been where he’d been standing and where Rat’s forearm now was. Moira gave up on removing the stuff when the first glimpse of ground meat underneath revealed itself. She stumbled back and gagged.  
Rat lost all the time between when the big sheet was finally pulled out, unleashing another wave of blinding pain that almost made him white out and when his head was in Moira’s lap and Hog’s big dumb fingers were suturing his stump closed. His body dumped so much adrenaline in him that he almost felt like he was having an out of body experience. Like it wasn’t even his arm getting stitched. His arm had a hand on the end after all. A very nice hand if he didn’t say so himself.

Though Hog’s mask was on, hiding his face, Rat could hear the difference in his breathing. It wasn’t even and it was so damn loud. “How is he so calm?” Moira asked, hand cupped under his jaw, fingers pressed lightly to his jugular.

“Body shuts down pain in severe trauma situations,” Hog answered shakily. But while his voice was uneven, his hands were steady. He swallowed thickly when he noticed Junkrat had lost that distant glazed look. They’d kept him talking as they’d set up to treat him, but his words had been slurred and nonsensical. But now the blown out pupils were alive and on him.

“How you feeling Rat?” He asked as he pushed the needle in again. The sutures were almost done and Rat was starting to feel it. He was familiar with amputation and knew the pain was going to come soon.

“It’s gonna hurt,” he said weakly. “It’s gonna hurt so bad. Oh criminey Hog we left all the dope in the bike–“ He inhaled deeply as sensation started to creep back. His chest began to heave faster and faster, terrified of the pain that was to come and memories of his first amputation coming back vividly. Hog finished off the stitches before Rat could full on hyperventilate. A giant hand laid gently across his chest.

“You’re going to be okay. Moira has a couple painkillers, we’re almost out of here. Just a couple hours and we’ll be able to get you something stronger.”

The three of them rested together as Rat was fed water and Moira’s few pills. They were just high dose ibuprofen, but easing the swelling would help. Moira was just as shaken, her eyes constantly going back to where they’d left behind the crushed portion of Rat’s arm.

When their nerves were collected enough, Hog picked Rat up, holding him gingerly as they made for the exit. With Moira leading the way, Hog found himself asking quietly, “Why?”

“Why what?” Rat mumbled, limp in his arms and cradling his severed limb.

“Why did you save me?”

Rat didn’t say anything at first, but then he turned his head and let it rest against Roadhog’s arm. “Couldn’t find it in me to hate ya that much.” Anger swelled in his chest as he said it. For all that rage and seething, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to that point. In his youth, yes, but over the years he’d come to accept his lot in life. His grudge against the mysterious people that had ruined Oz had faded. While renewed by this reveal– it wasn’t enough.

Anger was easy. It came to him naturally, it made him want to punch and claw and scream. But every vision of violence was just that. Only imagining. And to his own horror, he had found less anger to feed on day after day as they had delved into the omnium. And that in itself pissed him off when he felt obligated, determined to stay enraged forever. Shouldn’t he? Betrayed! By his closest friend! He should be angry! Hate his guts! Wanna kill him!

But he didn’t. And it had been driving him nuts.

Roadhog’s breath left him and didn’t come back. Under the cover of his mask tears flooded out uncontrollably. He held Junkrat just a little closer. This whole time he’d almost been expecting Rat to try and gut him now that they had the stuff, but instead–

“You owe me an arm,” Rat said, his sweaty forehead, pressing easily against the equally sweaty skin of Hog’s trapezius. “You owe me a whole Oz.” Rat felt so feeble and exhausted, he could feel all the anger he’d been desperately feeding and clinging to slip away. What he wanted more was to be okay and being okay was him and Hog being okay again. Being honest with himself was hard, like lose an arm hard. He giggled quietly at the thought.

“I’ll give you the whole damn world,” Hog whispered back, choking on the lump in his throat. As fucked as this was– he was so happy. They were going to be okay.


	27. Reunion

They were not okay.

The meds wore off quick and weren’t strong enough to subdue the pain from the rapid swelling at the stump’s end. The major arteries and veins were sewn up but minor blood vessels were leaking into the end, pressing against the tight sutures. Even twinges of movement, voluntary or not, was agonizing. Junkrat went from limp from exhaustion to incredibly tense as he tried to stifle the sounds of his pain. If Hog jostled him wrong he would curl violently around his arm, undamaged hand digging pits into the bicep above.

Roadhog had to swallow his sympathy and keep moving. There had been no time to shape or cull unneeded muscle nor even to shorten the bone. It would hold for now, but this couldn’t last. Junkrat needed a real surgery. And he needed real pain killers.

The worst was when the pain would be so overwhelming Rat would start thrashing and beating his head with his left fist, as if he could replace the pain with another. Hours of muffled screams, hidden tears, and dry heaving. Moira would look back over and over, brows perpetually turned upward in worry. By the time the sun finally hit their skin Rat was drenched in sweat, jaw grit tight and stump seeping blood.

All three of them turned from the light, blown out pupils that had been been only seeing things by a dim nightlight esque glow. Still even with Rat on the verge of passing out they took a moment to celebrate. There was a sigh of relief as Moira and Junkrat both breathed the relatively clean air of the Outback.

By the time they’d made it back to the bike Rat had gone back to being limp. Even in the despicable heat of the sun, his skin was pale and clammy from the blood loss. Roadhog could only pat the thin man’s face every so often when those dark eyelids fluttered too dangerously. Sleep was dangerous right now.

“Moira. Another dose. Now.” Hog ordered, heading to work with the supplies he’d stolen all those months ago now. The huge woman was out of her element and scrambled to comply.

Holding out the pill, she stuttered out, “W–what should I do?” She watched him measure out some morphine into a needle and slowly deliver it into Rat’s arm. Huge hands steady even now.

“Get the bike ready. I’m sure there’s sand everywhere by now. I’ve got this.” He took a moment to breathe deep, wishing he had the time to mix up more hogdrogen. Moira had been thorough in her initial attack and destroyed what he hadn’t been carrying with. For now he fixed up Rat the best he could.

As he wrapped the seeping stump, Rat whispered, “Whatever was in that needle, I loved it. I’ll take more of that if ya got it.” He grinned a watered down version of his usual smile.

“You’ll get more later. I can’t have you sleeping yet. Don’t know how many whacks to the head you took.”

“Whackin’ my head is something I consider a talent,” Rat giggled, blinking slowly under the influence of the morphine. He made the weakest jerk off motion with his left hand before frowning deeply. “Christ. I was right hand man…”

Hog laughed from deep in his chest, in that way that you laugh after something awful’s just happened. He held his head in one hand as he let out the stress. There was more to come yet, but for now he could take a breather with Rat safely escorted out of that pit.

Watching on silently, Junkrat was in a daze. He’d been unable to focus on anything other than pain until this moment and even as his mind remained fuzzy with exhaustion, he was starting to think about all the things a man without a right hand couldn’t do. It made him feel cold in a way more than just the blood loss. A heavy weight formed in the pit of his gut that he desperately wanted to avoid, so he looked to Hog for comfort. The way his partner was shaking with relief, eased him.

With Hog driving again and Rat all but strapped down into the sidecar, the three took off for the border of the Outback where Turner and freedom awaited.

Days passed and they found Moira to be right. Very, very, very right. The stims had them hooked. Rat couldn’t risk dropping them. His body was too weak to take withdrawal and Hog– well he was almost incapacitated after a day of skipping out and there was no way Moira could drive the bike while trying to keep him on it as his vision blurred. It had been all her strength to hold him in place as he’d tried to go without and his muscles involuntarily went limp while they were driving.

And Moira didn’t even bother trying. They could sleep now even with the stims. And the bump in energy steadily lessened. She explained, “They were developed for a soldier enhancement program then scrapped for reasons you can guess yourself. Furthermore the stim loses effectiveness fast. At least there’s no craving to up the dosage. That’s why no one’s picked it up for recreational use. That and it costs a mint to obtain without the right connections.”

Still, as long as they were on it there were no serious problems. Yet, as Moira liked to remind. And after the first day Rat opted to sleep away as much of the trip as possible. When he was awake he was quiet, then suddenly loud about something innocuous. It worried Hog.

The night before they were to arrive at Turner’s office, Hog woke up in the night to whizz but was distracted by the sight of Rat standing in the distance. The Outback was free of light pollution so the light of the astral bodies were all caught on the slender outline. His back was to the camp and he stood motionless and contemplative.

He only moved when Roadhog came up on him, looking over his shoulder glumly, then back to the horizon.

“Did the pain wake you?” Hog asked, leaning slightly to look at the stump.

Rat placed a hand over it gently. “Nah mate. Just been getting’ too much sleep.”

“You’ve been napping a lot.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “Been real nasty bein’ awake for this.” He rubbed what was left of his arm. “When they took me leg they knocked me out as soon as they was sure I’d lived through the surgery. Slept for a few good days I think.“

“Dangerous,” Hog rumbled. “I wish I’d brought the supplies.”

“Well, what’s done is done.” Rat gave a pause then started to laugh gently. “Ya know when it all came down it didn’t even hurt all that much! It was really just– warm. Like I weren’t there.” He laughed harder and straightened up with a lopsided grin. “All I could think was, Hooley dooley did I just wet meself?”

Roadhog laughed along with him, which put him at ease and he let loose more of those piercing giggles. When silence fell between them again, Hog heaved a breath and pulled his mask off. He savored the feeling of cool night air over where a usually stifling mask was.

“Rat. Listen. I’m sorry. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life and they’re not something that need forgiving, but I need to tell you that I hid all of this because– I was scared. I’ve been scared of confronting what happened for a long time.”

Junkrat stared at Mako’s face unabashedly. He hadn’t seen it for ages it felt like. He liked how wide and heavy every feature was. A severe contrast to most people he’d seen, including himself, who were thin and fragile.

“I– I did hate you for a minute there. All of it, it made me wanna rip my guts out. And just–“ Rat moved to push back his hair with his hand but instead bonked himself with his stump. “Shit. I just wish I could still remember Ma’s face. And I wish I still had,” he wiggled his right side, “Both of these! And that River didn’t turn all fucked up, and that things weren’t so, so! Fucked!”

He panted gently and made a fist with his remaining hand. “I’d imagined for years what I’d do to someone who’d done this to me and all. It was my cops and robbers with the kids, junkers and suits! And then, it was you.” He trailed off and looked up into the dark brown eyes that watched him from under heavy brows.

“And you’re just as fucked as the rest of us out here.” Rat looked sympathetically back into those eyes and then to the thick scar on the side of Hog’s face and to his lips which were parted slightly to let out his rasping breaths. They stared at each other like this for a while, counting their losses in this brutal place.

“We’re almost out,” Hog said quietly, gripping Rat’s good shoulder and squeezing lightly. Smiling and laughing, Rat nodded, placing his much smaller hand on Hog’s. “Right that mate! I can’t wait to see it! Civilization!” He swept his stump arm across the night sky as if he were presenting the concept to Hog.

“Me too. It’s been so long I don’t know what’s out there anymore.”  
“What do you remember?” Rat asked, leaning in slowly. His eyes were wide and curious. The close proximity and the way he still held Hog’s hand to his shoulder, it reminded him what it was about Junkrat that had drawn him in to begin with. As brutalized as he was by the world Rat still had the time to wonder.

“Well–“ Hog started. He let loose a ramble of old memories of his life before the war that could have put plenty of old men to shame, but then again maybe he was pretty old at this point. Still Rat seemed to enjoy it, corroborating things he’d learned from other old junkers or from remnants in the Outback.

Eventually their mouths grew dry and quiet. Rat twitched with shivers of pain as the morphine wore off again. Hog dutifully shot him up again before they went back to sleep.

As they pulled into the pointless empty parking lot in the shadow of Turner’s workplace. Moira sat behind Hog and though he couldn’t see her, she radiated tension. Her fingers had been tapping and picking at his leathers all morning and now she got off the bike like her legs were made of wood.

“Hoo boy,” she muttered to herself, running a hand over hair again and again though it did nothing to fight the natural wiriness that made it puff up. “Feel like I’m ‘bout to walk into the lion’s den.” She breathed a laugh and gave a stressful smile at Hog to try and ease up. But with his mask he couldn’t smile back, so he just threw her a thumbs up.

Entering the lobby cautiously, the receptionist looked at the three of them, haggard, filthy, and beat up, and she pushed a button on her desk slowly. Leaning into her speaker, she said in a perfect monotone, “Moira’s back ma’am.”

A few seconds passed before a violent slam rang out from above them. The mad stomping of someone trying to run downstairs in heels came and from the doorway where you were supposed to go upstairs came Turner. She didn’t look how Hog was used to. While her clothes were still pressed and neat, her hair was loose and across her face was a medical eye patch that did nothing to hide the scars around it.

A pause as she stared, lone eye blinking and squinting. But it was only a moment she needed. Then she was striding toward them, face unreadable, but when she was a few feet away it seemed she’d settled on angry.

“You enormous bitch!” she shouted, punching Moira in the gut ineffectively. “You stupid asshole!” Grabbing Moira by her backpack straps, she shook the woman who towered over her until Turner couldn’t bear it anymore and latched on and whined as she tried to swallow her sobs.

“I’m sorry,” Moira said quietly and hugged her girlfriend tight. The two hugged for ages with Turner all but trying to climb Moira to get more of her. If that weren’t awkward and sappy enough for the two junkers to stand through the following prolonged makeout and whispered apologies was. Rat made repeated gagging motions at Hog who just covered Rat’s face with one giant hand.

Their picturesque reunion was eventually interrupted by Rat who finally managed to one handedly claw off Hog’s hand long enough to shout “Get a room!”

They untangled, Moira more reluctantly than Turner who cleared her throat and smoothed out her mussed hair. “Yes, well, um,” she straightened her tie and finally looked up. Recognizing Hog, she bared her teeth in a violent frown. “You! You filthy, fat piece of shit!” Turner looked to Moira, “What is he doing here?”

“All right now love, just take a breather,” she spread her hands wide against the accusing glare, and kept herself between Chloe and Hog. “We’ve struck a deal, one that will fix everything.” One big hand cupped Tuner’s jaw tenderly turning her gaze back to Moira. “Let’s go upstairs and talk.”

Turner visibly softened, her lone eye darting away from the motley crew on her doorstep. “Alright. Let’s go upstairs.”


	28. Home Cooked

The four of them slipped up to Turner’s office under the dull gaze of the woman at the front desk. Moira and her were inseparable and their quiet chatter changed how the two junkers understood them. Hog could understand all that rage Moira had when she’d found them and felt the generosity of her kindness after. Rat was uncomfortable. The tender way they interacted slowly sickened him and pulled out old memories.

With the doors shut, Turner finally pried herself away from her girlfriend enough to transform back into the rigid, cold suit that Hog knew. But she didn’t bother trying to smile at him. Contempt spelled itself out on her tightly pursed lips.

“So. What do you have that is going to fix me.” Her mouth flinched into a snarl as she said fix. Moira dug into her pocket, stammering out, “Chloe, Chloe, look–“ in an attempt to shelter Hog from the freezing wrath of her girlfriend. From her pocket she pulled a couple of the batteries just like the one Hog had given Turner at the beginning of all this.

Still in business mode, Turner’s face softened only slightly, brows raising as she took one from Moira’s hand and turned it over. “You got more?” she asked.

“Yea! Loads!” Moira continued, pulling out another handful and nodding to Hog and Rat to do the same. The three of them started unloading the little items onto Turner’s desk. They had hundreds of them and as the pile grew you could all but see the numbers calculating in Chloe’s head. She covered her mouth with her hand, eventually biting down onto a knuckle as she considered the treasure before her.

“Turner. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” Hog said slowly. The suit didn’t say anything, but her eyes were on him, then on Junkrat. She gave a grunt then muttered, “An eye is worth approximately 25,000 credits. What you have here is worth far more.”

Moira put a hand on Chloe’s shoulder, face warm and hopeful. “Could it be worth, say, four people’s freedoms?” Turner looked back, a crooked smile on her lips.

“I’d say so!” A breathless laugh and the tension in the room melted as the two women giggled happily. Hog felt himself smile at those words. But when he looked back at Rat he seemed underwhelmed and preoccupied. Hog tapped his shoulder, head tilted questioningly. Rat played it off like he’d been daydreaming and threw the big lug a smile.

When Turner turned and suggested they celebrate, Hog imagined something decadent, wine, champagne, things he’d almost forgotten. But what they had instead was something more– homey.

It was an odd sight. Three filthy junkers in a neat, clean, and rather small apartment. While he had imagined Turner living in finery this was like a dorm room someone had made their own. Her kitchen was little more than a electric cooktop plus a fridge. The furniture was bland, scuffed, and small. He didn’t dare try sitting on anything other than the couch.

Rat remained quiet and self absorbed, but then again Hog wasn’t looking to make conversation. Moira and Chloe chattered nonstop, filling what would have been uncomfortable silence with warmth. Rat only perked up as chopped onions hit the pan and sent him groaning as he inhaled deeply. Drool spilled over his lips, which he lapped right back up. “Hog you gotta take off the mask and smell this,” he whispered. He was mushing the meat of his cheeks about in delight as more rich smells filled the air.

Hog looked to Turner who had never seen him maskless before. After a few minutes of fidgeting and watching Rat thrash on the floor next to him, he finally pulled off the mask. Cool, filtered air chilled his skin and he had to agree that the smell of what was being cooked was heavenly. He almost teared up it was so good. When was the last time he’d smelled properly cooked and spiced food?

Only when she was bringing the food out did Turner finally notice Hog’s bare face. She paused, surprised, but pressed on admirably without staring at the mess of scar tissue on one side. Then again she’d seen worse probably.

“Thank you,” Hog said as he took the plate into his hands. He felt that urge to cry again as he looked at his plate of snags bedded on onion, green beans, and tomato sauce with a heaping pile of mashed potatoes.

When Rat got his he screamed in delight and laughed up until he had most of snag jammed in his mouth at which point he ooed and ahhed through his food. He’d gone for it with his left hand, no fork. Chloe grimaced and backed away from Rat like he was a feral creature, which, he kind of was. She and Moira ate proper at the tiny table.

As ravenous as he was, Hog still slipped Rat some of his extra food. Chloe had loaded him up double for obvious reasons. Rat eagerly accepted. Hog laughed under his breath as the blistering pace Junkrat had started eating at slowed with the very visible protrusion of gut on his skinny frame. Eventually he just lay there nibbling on his last snag looking exhausted.

Hog ate slow to compensate for the less than substantial meal having given away so much of it. As Rat lay there, food finished, Hog held down a forkful of veggies near his mouth and laughed a bit loud when Junkrat whined and turned his head away. He chased those thin lips with his fork, making Rat whine louder and more petulantly. Satisfied with his fun, Hog took back the fork and finished off his plate.

“So he’s who you went to rescue?” Turner asked, jaw resting in one hand and clearly amused.

Hog cleared his throat, eyes turning down from that piercing gaze. His tension softened as he looked at Junkrat chewing on the cuticles of his hand. “Yea,” Hog answered quietly.

“Problem?” Rat asked, looking over at the suit dully.

“Nope!” she chimed, eyes twinkling with silent laughter. Roadhog wondered if his infatuation was really that obvious and itched to put his mask back on.

Turner stood up and stretched. “I’ll show you two to your room then. Not that silent, filthy company isn’t welcome, but I have emails to make now. It may take some time, but I am going to get this all arranged as soon as it can be done.” She actually smiled properly as she finished speaking, looking as hopeful as Moira did earlier.

Hog didn’t even bother asking and picked Rat up off the ground and held him like a beer can as he followed Turner out. Their room was really just a small barracks for extra guards, but a proper bed was more than they’d had in a good while.

He tossed Rat gently onto a bed and went about pushing a few together for himself. Junkrat eased up off the bed to watch him. “Something up?” Hog asked as the metal bed frame scraped against the floor when he pushed it.  
“Guess its just hard to shake the feelin’ we’s gonna get a knife in the back.” Hog finished up his bed and let himself fall onto it.

“You don’t trust them?”

“I don’t trust no one.”

“I’m worried too. But, I think I can trust Moira. And if they try something we can take ‘em.” He made a fist and squeezed, letting his knuckles crack loudly.

Rat laughed, but seemed unconvinced. “Suits are tricky, tricky, tricky. And she’s got the home team advantage here.”

“And Moira?”

“She’s head over heels for that suit, wouldn’t take even a very good pork pie to fool her.”

Hog watched how Junkrat stared into the air, brows furrowed. “You said you had a thing with a suit once.”

Groaning with dismay, Rat fell back onto his bed and covered his eyes with what was left of his forearm. “Did I actually mention that?”

“Yea when you talked Moira down from kicking my fuckin’ ass.”

“Roight.” He lay silent, probably hoping Hog would drop it. And he might have if he weren’t dying to know Rat’s romantic history, if it was romantic at all. Something that might hint at his preferences.

“Spill it Fawkes.”

With an indignant look from under his arm, Rat pointed at him and yelled, “That ain’t me name no more!”

Hog laughed deeply and adjusted to face his friend better, lying on his side, one hand holding up his head and the other on his gut. “Spill it, BOSS,” he corrected. Rat smiled to himself and got comfortable as he savored the title.

“Yea well. Not much to tell. Got tripped up by a pretty lil suit. Just a fling.”

Hog snorted. “You knew an awful lot more than what just a lay or two would imply.”

Rat’s face twisted up and he turned his head just enough to glance at Hog, then went back to staring at the ceiling. “Guess he wanted a shoulder to cry on and I let him. First it was just he snuck out his gilded tower for a drink at the pub, then that turned into a lay, which I guess he hadn’t been planning on?” He threw a hand to his mouth and breathed a laugh behind it. “Christ when he woke up he ‘bout screamed!” An inscrutable look overcame him and he fell silent.

While he might have once let this silence hold, Hog prodded Rat further, elated at the info he’d gotten so far and still curious for more. “I can’t imagine a suit warming up to a devil like you, how’d you woo him?”

“Let’s just say I woke him up in a most charming way, which he was quite fine with until he looked under his sheets.” Rat smiled and Hog swallowed thickly as he pictured it. “I guess, he was desperate. Everyone else that works in these places don’t really wanna get involved in the mess the suit’s got. It’s a lonely gig. And I had a lot more hair than I do now. So he took to me.”

There was a pause as his reminiscing went from the happy start to the less pleasant end. “And maybe he pitied me too. And eventually he decided to make better use o’ me than his pet junker that kept his bed warm. I did work for him for what I thought was mighty good pay then. Idiot.” He hit himself in the head bitterly.

“And then he’s gone. Cleared his debt, back to civil society. That night, I look to him as he tells me this, and I say real pathetic like, take me with you! And he, he laughs that polite little suit laugh. The one that says ‘no thank you’ without actually sayin’ it.” With a sigh, Rat released the tension that telling the story gave him. “And that was that.”

“Doesn’t really improve my opinion of suits in general. I mean I thought they were livin’ it up in these places, but they still don’t have it that bad. Not bad enough to use you like that.”

Rat rolled over in his bed to face Hog, brows gently sloped with sadness, but smiling all the same. “Might make me a galah, but I’m glad it didn’t work out. I think it’ll be a might better goin’ to see what’s out there with you.”

Hog didn’t answer, too surprised and too lovestruck. Junkrat watched Hog’s mouth part slightly to speak only to lick his thick lips and shut it again. Maybe that had been too sappy, but Hog didn’t seem upset as he nodded and rubbed his head.

They lay silently for a while and Hog started prepping himself for sleep. Maybe it was an old ritual from his life before, but when he could he’d undo his hair and brush it out with a ancient comb. Slowly, carefully the knots would undo until his pale hair was smooth. Meanwhile Rat hardly dared run his fingers through his hair lest he rip out a clump.

More than anything he wanted to touch Hog’s hair. So much about Hog drew out the craving to touch. Smooth hair, strong arms, rough skin, thick neck. The temptation only grew when Hog finished combing and sat down on the edge of Rat’s bed. The mattress sank and rolled Junkrat closer to his giant companion. Hog double checked his measurements and cleaned the injection site. Junkrat honestly barely even noticed the throb of his stump since they’d gotten inside. But then again these kinds of comforts could make a man forget a lot of things.

As the needle pressed the fluid into his vein, Rat took the opportunity to reach up and quickly brush his fingers through the ends of Hog’s hair. Roadhog inhaled quick and surprised, but his hands remained steady. “What’s that about?”

“Just wanted to know how it feels. Don’t really have much of a mane here,” he threw back his head as if to shake hair he didn’t have.

Hog grunted, then leaned his head in, dipping it to form a curtain of hair. Rat greedily took up the offer and took the hair up in his hand. It was thick and smooth where his own was wispy and curled.

“Most people where I’m from had curly or wavy hair. So it was kind of weird when my hair grew flat like this.”

“Just makes ya cool then!” Rat laughed and let the hair fall from his fingers only to watch it fall neatly back in place. “Thanks,” he concluded and drew his hand back. With a grunt Hog backed off and went about cleaning the needle as best he could. It was far from ideal, but every supply was limited right now.

With his heart in his throat Hog returned to his pushed together beds and reran the evening over and over in his head until sheer exhaustion took him to sleep.


	29. Unexpected Kindness

Their stuttered sleep came to an abrupt end as screaming penetrated the walls of their room. It was muffled but with the stims in their system they could barely drop past the first stage of sleep. Hog sat up and listened, glancing over at Rat who lay still but the shiny whites of his eyes reflected what little light the room caught.

“How could you do this! You know very well what those things do to people!” It was Turner. She was angry and hurt. “And now they’re hooked too? How much have you all had?”

Things go quiet and Rat slides out of bed unsteadily. He looks at Hog then slinks over to the door and opens it silently. They can just hear Moira now.

“–with me. This is what’s left.” More silence.

“There’s more than this missing from the stock.”

“I’ve been dipping into them since that recovery gig in April.”  
“I warned you how bad they were. You told me you were clean.” Turner’s voice was steely and barely contained below a shout. Heavy stomps followed by the crisp sound of a brutal slap echoed down the hall.

There was a messy inhale and sob from someone. “I thought I could shake it. I’ve done so much crazy shit before I was so sure this wouldn’t be that bad.” More sobs and the dull thud of someone hitting the floor. “I’m so sorry Chloe. I just keep fucking up.”

Things die down into whispers from there. Rat remains at the door, sitting on the balls of his feet.

“Rat?” Hog whispers.

“Shh!” He hisses back. Slowly, he undoes his prosthetic leg. Trapped by Rat’s need for silence and knowing there’s no way he can move without making a ruckus Hog stays there on the bed. Junkrat drops down onto the ground and starts crawling quietly. It’s probably the quietest he’s ever been and something about it is unnatural enough to put Hog on edge.

And then he’s alone. His partner had crawled out of sight and all that was left was the occasional sounds from down the hall out of Turner’s room. Had he heard something more from his place by the door? It was almost twenty minutes before Rat came back. He grabbed his peg leg and scooted over to Hog’s bed.

“It ain’t good news mate.” His brow was wrinkled and teeth gritted. Hog leaned over and pulled his friend off the ground and sat him on the bed. The severe dent in the mattress from Hog’s weight makes him ruin the attempt to set Rat at a reasonable distance apart and he just slides down right beside the big lug. Rat doesn’t try to scoot away, instead uses Hog to lean on while clumsily trying to strap on his prosthetic again.

“Whatever this drug is mate I’ve been hearin’ real good mate even through the squeal in me head. I heard that suit. Those little pills we been takin’– they cost a mint. And Moira’s been eatin’ em like candy. All of those things we got, it might not be enough.” He interrupts himself to let out a muffled shriek as he fumbled the straps again.

Wordlessly, Roadhog takes over and fixes the peg back into place. Junkrat goes quiet while it happens, not even breathing until Hog sits back up. “S–so who do you think might get cut out of the picture?”

“Mm,” Hog hummed, squeezing his knees. “I want to trust them. Maybe they’ll turn on us, but this time, I just wanna believe in someone.” When he looks at Rat his face is scrunched up.

“You think it’s dumb.”

“Pretty much, mate.”

“Guess I’m just sentimental about Moira.”

“Nah, I get it.” With a wave of his good arm, he brushes it off. “Or I mean– I trust yer judgment.” He looked him in the eyes and the significance of those words were not lost on Roadhog. They stayed up a while like this, side by side, until their nerves over the evening’s discovery boiled off.

The next day no one brought up anything about the pills. Moira slipped them their doses wordlessly at breakfast and Turner was painfully quiet. Both women’s eyes were swollen, but the junkers didn’t bring it up. Moira showed them to a few more parts of the building where they might fill their time until word got back from HQ on Turner’s debt and their big find.

They idled away the days and no resolve was found between their hosts. Moira spent her time alone in the lounge room. The boys opted to avoid her. Turner stayed in her office working away. The continued radio silence made them uneasy.

But finally the day came. Turner collected them in her office, Moira looking ashamed in the corner and them standing uncomfortably before the desk. The situation made Junkrat twitchy, eyes flicking back to Moira and good leg tapping ceaselessly. Hog tried to help and stepped back and between Rat and Moira. With his back shielded he did feel a little better.

“I got word back from my superiors.” Turner sighed and cupped her forehead, collapsing as soon as the words began to leave her. “Maybe it was a necessary move, but regardless the debts incurred by sustaining Moira’s and now both of your addiction is… steep.”

The way she sat while professional at first collapsed into something more broken. She seemed to sink into herself. “Unauthorized use of company materials falls under a loan agreement in my contract and the interest is not kind. You have to understand, the Kredithai Corporation doesn’t want people who get out. Every thing they provide here, I have to work off.”

“It’s not enough is it,” Rat interjected, limping forward. He was staring Turner down. She straightened up, eye cloudy with sadness. “You expected this, didn’t you. I know it may be hard to believe, but I am not trying to scam you out of your half. That is why.” Her face hardened. You could see her withdrawing into the shell of her business persona. “You three will go without me. I will shoulder the debt as I have so far.”

Junkrat took a step back and looked at Hog. His face twisted with confusion and surprise. Moira meanwhile strode forward and slammed her large hands on the desk, much in the way Hog had last time he’d negotiated with Turner. And just the same Turner remained untouched by the brewing storm that broiled on the cusp of Moira’s lips.

“I am not, you hear me? Not leaving without you. This is my fault, I ruined it, I shouldn’t have taken them and I shouldn’t have lied to you about it. Please, Chloe, don’t–“ Her harsh stance dissolved into pleading desperation in moments, faced with the cold stare of the woman behind the desk.

Hog watched silently. He would take Turner’s offer even if the scene before him was painful, it was what he owed Junkrat. But to his surprise, Rat shuffled forward, refusing to make eye contact with anyone but the floor. “This is probably just what you were playin’ at, but just shut up and take it all fer yerself. Me and Hog can find another way out.”

Moira went quiet, Turner still playing it cold, looked at Rat, eye tracing his peg leg and the sling that carried his stump arm. She looked at Hog who stood still, mask obscuring his face, but the stiff body language angled toward Rat silently conveyed shock. Turner’s hand balled up on her desk, she hunched over, body tensing slowly as she desperately tried to hold in her emotions.

And then she released. A messy wail of relief and years of bottled grief came out in a wave. She cried straight from the pit of her stomach, full of shuddered breaths. The kind of crying that makes you cry too. Rat shrank away, scooting back to Hog. When they made eye contact again, Rat seemed unsure of how Roadhog would react.

“Thank you, boss,” he whispered simply. It made Junkrat’s chest swell. Turner broke her weeping long enough to rise out of her seat, snotty face staring them down.

“If it’s you Mako, then there’s a way. It’s dangerous, but there’s a way.” Fat tears rolled down her face. Hog nodded and ushered Rat out of the room while Moira held onto Turner.

Junkrat seemed bashful and uncomfortable as he loped back to the barracks they’d been staying in. The moment they were in private, Hog caught him by the shoulder. “Are you sure, are you really sure?” he asked, peeling back his mask. Junkrat flushed under the sudden spotlight of Roadhog’s attention.

“Y– yeah. I mean we’re junkers, ain’t nothin’ we can’t scrap our way out of!” He gave Hog a messy smile that didn’t really hide his uncertainty. Generosity of this kind ran counter to how people lived in the Outback. It wasn’t something Rat had ever made a habit of. “I just– I been thinkin’ about how you wanted to trust Moira, and when she talked real straight to us, I guess I wanted to see if it was real. If there’s other people out there ya can trust.” His gaze turned distant and there seemed to be a broil of emotions that went unsaid, but Hog accepted it.

The grip on his shoulder tightened a little, he brushed his thumb against the bare skin and then pulled Rat in for a side hug and noogied that balding head, which made Junkrat shriek playfully and writhe out of Hog’s grip. When he’d wiggled his way out, Hog laughed and said, “What you did means a lot. Not just to Turner. We’ll find a way out of here no matter what.”

Junkrat turned away, the urge to wring his hands came and passed. “Don’t be so sentimental ya drongo, it’ll make us look bad.”

“Look who’s talking.”

“Do something nice once and suddenly everyone’s weepin’ and kissin’ my ass, never again!” He threw his good arm up and stomped over to his bed, hiding his wide smile, but Hog could hear it in his voice anyways.

“What should I be doin’ then, boss?” There was something more sultry in his words than he expected. He’d breathed them deep and gravelly and it sent a panic through both of them.

Junkrat held in a scream as messy pictures flooded his mind. “How about you get me somethin’ to eat! I’m starvin’!”

“You got it.” Hog answered, turning back out of the room, heart beating sporadically. The closer they got the more these kinds of things would slip out he realized. He worried his lip and imagined hearing something like that slip from Rat’s lips.


	30. New Duds

Days flew by and more than a week in Junkrat found himself admiring the healthy layer of fat he’d built up from eating so well since he got here. The lines of his individual muscle layers were still traceable, but not such that his skin was snug against them. He was cleaner than he’d ever been. Roadhog had helped him bathe and while he had some fucked up tan lines he found that his skin was a lot lighter with the dirt scrubbed off.

His mind wandered back to that bath. When he’d sat down in the water it had muddied instantly, much to Hog’s revulsion. The big guy had washed up the very next day of their visit. Rat hadn’t been as excited. With enough plying Roadhog had convinced his boss to take just one.

Naked and awkward, with his arm tenderly protected by some cling wrap, Hog had rinsed him off in the tiny tub of Turner’s apartment. Then he drained the filthy water and refilled it. And then– then Hog scrubbed him down. The loofa had scraped him raw, but Junkrat took to it fiercely. Like an animal he cooed and bent into the scratchy puff, reveling in having parts he couldn’t reach itched. Hog had insisted on keeping his mask on for the event and given how unsteady his breaths were it made sense. Rat smiled to himself knowingly, though his stomach had been doing little flips throughout too. He stood there blankly thinking about Mako, thinking about the amount of crazy shit they’d been through over the span of half a year. And about that handsome face, perfectly ravaged by the wasteland. He giggled to himself and chewed his lip thinking about that face.

Maybe it was the thorough supply of intravenous painkillers but he had been feeling pretty damn good for half a man. His eyes fell back to his missing arm in the mirror. Even looking at the stump made his mouth dry and throat hurt. He looked away, desperate to hold back his grieving just a little longer. But each day it felt as though the dam might break, that he wouldn’t be able to hold it all in.

Before, with his leg, he had all the privacy in the world to break down. He was left to heal in a room, tended to only occasionally by River or the old man, when work allowed them to swing by. In the dim light there he’d awoken and fallen in on himself, just a child and his grief. Then when he was well enough he was forced back into work.

But now as an adult the thought of collapsing like that felt shameful, he couldn’t let himself weep. If he had some real alone time maybe, but his every moment was with Hog now. Sometimes he’d remember that night he’d watch Hog weep quietly in the moonlight. He couldn’t cry quietly like that. Every time the swell of loss breached his throat it was heavy and ugly the same way Turner had cried.

He also knew that this dam would not hold the moment they started to wean him off the drugs. While the pain was held at bay now, he knew oh so well that his new stump was just waiting to make him scream. The muscles twitched and cramped painlessly now, but memories of the phantom pains in his leg made him terrified of when his responsible bodyguard would cut him off.

Carefully he touched the stump, feeling the hard muscle up to the edge of the bandages that wound around it. Then he pulled back, afraid of it. Enough of that he thought as he turned away from the mirror.

Stepping out of the bathroom, Hog was sitting on his pushed together beds reading, a habit he’d picked up again in the interlude of peace they were being offered. Junkrat didn’t really get it.

“Today’s the day, eh?”

Hog looked up from his book. “Guess so. All the connections should line up. If they do, then we move tomorrow.”

“Or at least that’s what that sheila said.” He squinted suspiciously into the air.

“You’re the one who decided to trust her.”

Junkrat scrunched his face and twisted away indignantly. “I can still be suspicious! I’m takin’ a chance here– We’re! Takin’ a chance!”

“Well, I think she’s been sincere with us. Even for a suit Turner was always pretty decent.” He sat up and scratched himself lazily.

Rat softened his posture. “I think so too.” He went and sat at the edge of his bed.

Mimicking his pose, Hog asked, “Did you only do it because it’s what I wanted?” The question came quiet and serious, darkening the otherwise light mood.

“Nah, nah mate! Well like I mean a little, but mostly,” he broke off and grimaced with embarrassment. Hog watched intently and leaned in slightly, waiting for him to finish. Rat glanced at him quickly and eked out the rest, “I think it’d be nice to see someone get that happy ending I didn’t get, eh?”

“We’re both getting’ soft aren’t we?” It came out as a sigh.

Rat sighed too, leaning back on his hand. “I blame you, bringin’ yer old world ways around. Ya ratbag goody two shoes.” He smiled, gold teeth flashing.

Straightening up, Roadhog cracked his knuckles menacingly. “Watch out who you’re calling goody. I think you’re forgetting who’s pulled a man’s joints out their sockets for fun.”

Junkrat laughed at the empty threat, delighting in the memory. “Only cuz I asked you to! Didn’t think you could it so fast though Christ. Like I thought ye’d need a wind up or like need to hold him down with a foot.”

A chuckle lilted out of Hog as he looked over one of his giant hands. “When you got the grip on ‘em it’s easy.“

“You always been that big?” he asked, looking at that same hand, then up to the thick arm and body attached to it.

“Pretty much. When I hit my growth spurt though I practically ran out of clothes overnight. Had to borrow dad’s, but even those were tight.” His voice was tinged with nostalgia and Rat felt envious.

“We should get some new duds when we’s free men.”

“Probably. Most places have a no shirt no shoes no service policy.”  
“What!” Rat bellowed, sitting up straight. “You’re ribbin’ me, how does anyone get anything?”

“Well, most of the time everyone’s fully dressed.” Hog realized that the intricacies of modern society were gonna be rough on Rat all things considered. And being years behind the times wasn’t going to make him a good guide. “Shit we’re gonna stand out even if we do get past border patrol.”

“I got that covered,” Turner interjected. She stood outside their door, leaning casually against the frame looking amused. Her bad eye now covered with a proper patch. Simple and black, it honestly made her look a little bad ass. Her memento of playing around with junkers.

“Bloody hell!” Rat screeched, twisting to face her. “How’d you sneak up on us like that? You part snake?”

Hiding her mouth with her hand Turner answered, “You two get really engrossed in each other. It’s kind of hard not to.”

Hog tensed at her comment, hearing the laughter behind her teasing words. Junkrat frowned until his upper lip pressed against his nose. “Anyways,” she continued, “Come on, I ordered some things for you guys. We can finally properly wash those disgusting pants of yours.”

The two of them looked at each other with uncertainty and followed her along back to her dorm. Inside they were greeted by an uncomfortable Moira who stood in front of Turner’s full length mirror in a neat white button up and black slacks. She tugged at the collar, running her index finger on the inside rim, willing it to let her breathe a little easier. Turning to face them the bulky woman gave them an uneasy grin that told them they’d probably just stepped into the lion’s den.

“Oh Moira! You look so good,” Turner sighed, looking more lovestruck than ever. Moira looked passably civilized despite her wild hair and sun beaten face. “Okay! So! I bought you guys what I hope will fit. You two are probably the most absurdly shaped people on the planet, but it is what it is.”

From a large cardboard box she pulled out some jeans, clearly sized for Rat and then a waterfall of cloth that she shook out to reveal as sweatpants for Hog. She threw them at the pair who stared at the fresh new fabric that smelled vaguely plastic from its packaging. Rat licked it lightly, then ran his tongue around his gums to get rid of the sensation of the rough texture.

As Hog was about to speak up regarding where they should change, Rat shucked his shorts in front of them all. Moira turned away, hiding her guys and snorting madly, shaking with held laughter. Turner who had been preoccupied with sorting more things in the box looked up and screamed, “Who the fuck told you to strip? Jesus–“  
There was a loud thud as Rat slipped and fell in his attempt to slip into the jeans. He yelped and struggled to sit upright. Hog moved to help but Turner was quicker. She grabbed his good arm and yanked. “Roadhog please help your friend.” Her eyes were turned up at the ceiling, saving the chastity Rat didn’t have.

“Don’t talk about me like I ain’t here!” he argued, angrily pulling on his new pants.

“Honestly,” Hog mumbled as he lifted Junkrat off the ground and supported him while he finished tugging the pants up cursing all the while. They were big on him and he didn’t even have to unbutton them to get them over his hips. But once they were on, he stopped to admire them and looked a fair bit happier.

Turner bobbed her head, considering the change then pulled out a black tee and an orange cap for him too. Roadhog helped him put on the shirt too, admiring the fit across his chest. It was a bit too short on his long torso, letting the skin between his belly button and hips show. Then with the cap to cover his receding hairline, Rat limped over to the mirror by Moira and admired himself again that day. The pants kept slipping, but he looked almost normal. Except when you looked into those wide hungry, feral eyes. But maybe people who didn’t know what the eyes of a junker looked like wouldn’t tell.

“Not bad, eh? I clean up nice,” he crowed, smoothing his shirt and pulling up his pants again.

“You look good. Imagine if we put a suit on ya,” Hog joked, enjoying the sight of Rat so pleased with himself. The comment made Junkrat whip back to the mirror and contemplate the thought before laughing uproariously.

“I think it’d suit you better, Hoggy!” He paused, lips pursed, before laughing madly again at his pun. Turner groaned while Moira and Hog laughed too.

“Here,” she interjected, stuffing a huge white undershirt and a colorful Hawaiian shirt in his hands. “Sorry about the atrocious pattern on that, but shopping in your size is limited. I just bought the biggest size they had.”

“Thanks for thinking of this. It didn’t cross our minds till now.”

Turner smiled smugly. “It’s what I do. Now go on and change.” She pointed at the bathroom. Hog dutifully did so.

When he’d changed, he looked himself over. It felt strange to dress like this. If it weren’t for his face he would look like a regular tourist. But the scars and the hardness in his gaze wasn’t something you could hide. Maybe like Rat they wouldn’t see the brutality in his face of a man who’d killed so many. He undid his hair and tried to hide the scarring with it, but it seemed all the more conspicuous to hide his face. He sighed, and stepped out.  
Everyone turned to look. Turner nodded approvingly and Moira clapped her hands. Junkrat meanwhile stared with abandon. The undershirt was stretched tight over Hog’s gut and chest. The overhang of fat couldn’t be contained leaving a peak of skin under the hem of the white shirt. He wanted to drop to his knees and kiss it.

They were far from well dressed, but looking at each other it was like they could see themselves outside of this wasteland, enjoying a life like what they’d come to taste briefly here at Turner’s place of work. They stared at each other, wishing for it desperately.

“You gotta show me up at everything?” Rat said jokingly. “You make pineapples look good.” Loping up, he smoothed the Hawaiian button up on Hog’s chest and for a moment Roadhog was pretty sure his heart had exploded. Rat patted him then turned to Chloe, leaning against Hog in a very boyband pose. “So we look like we’ll pass inspection?”

She stood up, dusting off her knees and nodded. “Just one last touch, and threw Hog a pair of huge flip flops. He looked at his feet and remembered his boots. “Oh yeah.”

“None for me?” Rat whined, stomping his one foot.

“Your boot will be fine,” she replied, waving him off. “Now try to stay clean while I wash those.” She pointed at their pants respectively. “But in the meantime I have to tell you how this is going to go down.”

Turner explained every detail of how she’d arranged for them to try and leave. Favor after favor had been used on them. It was far from perfect, but there was hope. Eventually though the favors ran out. The conclusion of the plan boiled down to and then you run. And they were to run to the doctor who’d done her eye and where they would hopefully meet up one last time.

Moira laid out the table with small arms they could conceal. Junkrat gaped at the selection and grabbed item after item to look over. They were all some sort of plastic. His stump kept moving as if to try and help examine the weapons, but that just seemed to irritate Rat.

“Can I take these and pick ‘em apart?” he asked Moira. “Maybe upgrade them some?”

“Sure. Just don’t add any metal. Or scorch anything.” Turner gave her a stressed glare, but Moira shrugged it off. Roadhog wordless scooped it all up and took it back to their bedroom and Rat followed excitedly, babbling about the ideas he had for everything.


	31. Broken Open

Hog spread the items out on the ground for Junkrat to pick at. Plopping down, peg leg tucked under him, Rat picked up each thing and turned it over carefully. From his small bag of things brought up out of the motorbike he extracted his tool kit. He unrolled it and grabbed a screwdriver. His mind was running wild with ideas on how to upgrade these little things.

He could see it so clear, this piece with that, a little bit of C4– he could see it and yet he was stuck even trying to unscrew the first bolt. His left hand had felt clumsy before, but trying to coerce to do this, while unable to steady the gun. He couldn’t even hold it between his feet.

Desperately trying to keep it in place with his one foot as his left hand shakily twisted, slipping again and again. God it was stripping, every bad turn shaved away more plastic on the screw until there was nothing left to catch. His teeth were gritted tight, face contorted with rage as he threw the gun against the wall and screamed.

Roadhog watched him with growing concern. Rat sat there panting and sweating with exertion. “Do you want help?”

“No!” he shouted, doubled over the next weapon. If that one he couldn’t do then maybe the next. Diving into his kit he extracted a hand powered drill, considered it, but it took two hands too. He pulled out his powders, but again he needed… two hands. Suddenly his breathing wasn’t controlled, it was shallow and uneven.

He looked at his useless stump and his vision blurred. He only had his one thing. The one thing he was good at, that everyone praised him for. In all those years even as his memory failed him, his body too thin, and his own mind vicious towards him, he’d had his tinkering. If he couldn’t build then what use was he? He couldn’t even hold a weapon properly.

Useless.

The blur in his vision turned out to be tears. The hot drips hit his leg beneath him and before he knew it the dam was broken. He screamed. It was long, running on and on until every last molecule of air had escaped him leaving his throat so raw he was sure he could taste blood.

In a flash Hog was there by his side, hands hovering over him, looking for wounds, looking at his stump. But there was nothing only Rat heaving and choking on his own sobs. There was the sound of feet coming down the hall.

Great! Just great, he was putting on a show for them. Nothing could stop it now. Waves of grief just kept coming, bodily shaking him. Trembling and rocking with each brutal rise of emotion, Rat screamed again, not as loud but desperate to evacuate this terrible sadness.

There were words, but he didn’t hear them over the sound of his own mind. It screamed too, telling him how futile it was. Even if he did get out of Oz what was there for him now? What could half a bastard idiot do but hold Hog back. He’d leave too. He’d be alone again. Every doubt and fear was played out in his mind’s eye as he clutched that damned arm.

When had he doubled over? The cold ground was pressed against his forehead. It contrast to the warm hands holding his shoulders, smoothing his hair. He lay there shaking and sobbing as Hog watched on unsure of what to do. Moira and Turner had backed off, but his heart was pounding as he watched his friend go through this.

The hands were so good, so kind, but it sent pangs of self–loathing through Rat. “Get off!” he grunted, curling up further. Roadhog complied, still letting them hover over Rat.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered unsteadily, eyes stinging with sympathetic tears.

The question made Junkrat’s body jerk and he slammed his head on the ground to feel some kind of control over the unending flow of sadness. “I’m worthless now! I’m nothing if I can’t– I can’t–“ he broke down into another wail and started to slam his head again and again, willing the skin to split.

Hog grabbed him and forced him upright, holding him back from hurting himself. He could see the tears and snot smeared over Rat’s reddened face, a lump forming on his forehead already.

“You’re more than just a tinkerer, Rat.” Hog assured as Rat struggled in his grip. Futile again, rat thought and went limp sobbing with a tinge of shame now that Hog could see his fat tears.

“I can’t do anything without my hand!” he choked out, digging his fingers into the stump. “I’ll be a burden. I’ll get left behind,” he whined and heaved, arching his back to try and wiggle away from his companion.

“You’re not gonna get left behind. I’m here for you. We’re partners.” Roadhog’s voice was tight, straining, as tears dripped down his cheeks too. “It’ll be okay, we’re gonna get you a prosthetic. You’ll see–“

“It won’t be the same! Look at this shitty leg,” he flailed his peg, “It’s the most advanced shit in this hell hole and it still sucks! You’re gonna get tired of babysitting me and you’ll leave! Or you’ll turn on me! And I’ll have nothing to stop you.” The words were feverish as intrusive thoughts berated him.

Wheezing and sobbing, Roadhog pulled him in close. Curled up Rat was easy to cradle in his lap and one of those huge steady hands was on the back of his head, thumb rubbing through his hair.

“I’d die before I’d leave you Rat.” He wound his arms a little tighter.

Again, Rat felt some kind of admiration for Hog. Those words were so certain, so reassuring. And these strong arms too, it felt safe like this. They stayed like this as Junkrat grieved for himself. Shuddering sobs racked his body, but they didn’t shake Hog’s warm embrace even a bit.

It took a long time, but eventually the tears came to a stop. Rat wiggled stiffly in Hog’s arms. Loosening his grip, he let Rat shift if only to check on that lump on his head. When he caught Rat’s head with his hand, lightly touching the red bump, Rat flinched and Hog hummed to himself with concern.

“We should ice that.”

Opening and closing his mouth a couple times, Rat finally babbled, “Yer just gonna ignore what just happened? My doing one tier up from crapping myself and not say a word?”

Hog blinked, hand lingering on Rat’s head to pet him. “I’d been expecting this for a while. You lost a fucking hand and shook it off like it was a scrape. That’s not how it goes.” Then his hand drops to Rat’s shoulder, eyes falling. “I didn’t realize you thought I would abandon you.”

Wetting his lips, Rat countered, “Well I mean, it ain’t the junker way to keep someone around who can’t contribute nothin’.”

“You’re not just some junker. You saved my life.” Everyday, Hog though to himself.

Junkrat was red to begin with but now his heart was pounding with happiness and pride. “You saved mine too.”

They sat quietly like this. Both worried that even a small shift might make the other person disengage. Hog’s heart was beating madly as he risked stroking the skin of Rat’s neck with his thumb. The sensation sent a shiver up Rat’s spine. Hog pushed it, petting and massaging Rat’s upper back. “I promised you the world right?” he whispered. “It’s old fashioned maybe but I don’t break promises okay?”

Rat nodded and shifted to turn his body toward Roadhog properly while wiping his face, but Hog took this as a sign to let go and pushed himself away until his back was against his bed frame. The air felt desperately cold now without another body.

Junkrat finished rubbing his face on his arm and kneeled where Hog had left him, stomach flipping from the closeness they’d had only moments ago. He stood up shakily and his leg prickled.

“You’re a real softie, huh?” he whispered. Hog was moving to get up and laughed.

“Guess so.”

Rat’s heart lept into his throat and before Hog could get up, he loomed over him, letting his light body drop back down onto his lap, sitting on it properly this time. Roadhog grunted as his partner dropped himself full force into his lap. In the moment of time where they were face to face, brutally close, he felt his breath catch.

Then Rat was on him, clutching the collar of his Hawaiian shirt while he kissed him. Roadhog felt his stomach drop leaving only that weightless fluttery sensation as thin lips worked against his. Grabbing Junkrat by the waist, he pulled him in and kissed back. The moment his mouth parted Junkrat was forcing his tongue in voraciously and Hog loved it.

Rat overwhelmed him with insistent sloppy kisses that he struggled to reciprocate. Their teeth clacked together as Rat slid his hand up into Hog’s hair. Weaving his hand into that thick mane of hair, he gripped it as if anything would part Roadhog from this ravishing.

Desperate to give back, Hog ran his hands up those skinny sides, tracing the curves of rib with his thumbs. Junkrat moaned into his mouth and wasted no time grinding into his lap. The movement sent a maddening heat through them both. Hog panted as Rat rolled his hips harder, biting viciously into that fat bottom lip. He pulled on Hog’s hair, forcefully dipping his head back so that mouth would open further. He pressed another deep kiss on Hog, sliding his long tongue against his bodyguard’s thick one.

They were deeply entangled when Moira returned to check on them. They barely noticed her footsteps, but when she saw them she choked on her spit as she blurted, “Holy shit–“ They both nearly jumped out of their skins at the noise and watched as she spun on her heel. “Sorry, sorry, shit, sorry!”

The interruption broke up the assault Rat had placed on his partner and the moment of respite let Hog regain his mind for a second.

“So,” he panted, face red with embarrassment and arousal. “What just happened?”

Unfaltering, Junkrat closed the gap between them, pressing his lips to the crook of Hog’s neck. “We was makin’ out mate. You forget what that is?”

He could barely breathe, caught on focusing the touch. “I meant why?”  
Rat continued to let his hand run wild on the expanse of torso there for the exploring. Damn he could use his other one right now. It was driving Hog crazy to have to try and fight off the urge to get back to it, but also holding back was making him even hotter for it. “You been wantin’ this and I decided I wanted it too.”

“Shit, sorry I didn’t mean to be obvious–“

“I liked it. Feels good to be wanted. But damn you think staring at me all the time ain’t obvious? Ya drongo.” He pulled back from nipping at Hog’s neck to restart their make out.

When Rat’s whole face came back into view, eyes red and puffy, nose dripping slightly and that nasty bump on his forehead, Hog cupped that face and held it there as he kissed Junkrat properly instead of being overwhelmed by him. It was slower, more build up until he let them kiss deeply again. He would catch Rat’s lower lip between his teeth, canines bruising it so good as he sucked on it. That drove Rat up the wall, his hand knotting into Hog’s undershirt, desperate to get closer.

But when he finally, finally let them slip back into that deep, messy kissing, Rat moaned into his mouth and Hog let his hands drop back down to those boney hips, tugging him in close and grinding back against him. Every pant and groan against his mouth was a reward. He tried to focus and keep on teasing Rat but things devolved into just desire.

Rat could feel Hog’s hard on through his shorts and worked it over mercilessly. It felt as big as he imagined and the thought made him throb. His pants felt too tight even if they were big on him to begin with, but the fabric was unforgiving. He whined, clawing at Hog and pushing back that shirt. Relenting, Hog slid it off even though it meant his hands had to stop slipping up and down Rat.

But that wasn’t enough, as the Hawaiian shirt eased off Rat started pulling up Hog’s undershirt too. Shame they had to be dressed up for this, Hog thought, putting his arms up so rat could undress him. Rat left him with the shirt around his elbows to finish himself, opting to dive down and lick his way across Hog’s chest, ending at a nipple where he bit down a bit too hard. Hog hissed and threw off the tangle of shirts to grab Rat and pull him off.

Answering in kind, Hog bit down on Rat’s neck hard then sucked at the skin until he was certain it bruised. Moaning unabashedly, Rat held on as Hog stretched the neck of his shirt and left hickey after hickey on him. He almost screamed in delight when that mouth came up and bit his ear, hot breath tickling in a way that sent tingles down his spine.

Rat’s grinding had lost its rhythm, he dry humped against Hog’s gut, desperate to give some attention to his cock. ‘P–please,” he stuttered out, drooling while Hog kept working over his neck and ear. With gusto Hog broke off to reach down and palm Rat through his jeans, watching his face as Rat started gasping and giggling. Which was weird, but also very Junkrat. Slowly he started to unbutton the jeans, then tugged them open to let Rat’s erection out. He ran his fingers over it, savoring the softness of the foreskin before gripping it and giving a lazy pump. Rat bucked into his loose grip breathing hard as he struggled for leverage with his one hand.

Hog leaned back in for another kiss as he started working over the cock in his hand. With his thumb circling the precum moistened head, he jerked Rat off eagerly, other hand supporting his back to keep him close. Junkrat was so absorbed in what was being done to him that his kisses were stuttered and he could only focus enough to kiss back when Hog would slow the pace.

Hog knew Rat couldn’t finish like this as much as he was moaning and babbling about how good it was between kisses. Effortlessly, Hog pulled him up and turned around with him in his arms. He lay him on the bed, skinny ass on the edge and legs dangling down.

“What ya–“ Rat started to say, but when he looked down and saw Hog pulling down his jeans enough to let himself start biting and kissing at the inside of Rat’s thighs, he broke off talking for a moment. But only a moment. “Christ you look gorgeous down there mate,” he said as Hog started to brush Rat’s cock against his thick lips.

“You think so huh?” He teased Rat with barely there licks and suckles until it was too much effort for Junkrat to even hold up his head and watch.

“Blimey, you’re killing me. Hog I take it back you’re a right bastard,” he blubbered, whining and writhing until Roadhog finally slipped him into his mouth. Rat tried to buck deeper, making Hog gag, but it didn’t take much strength to hold down those hips. He pulled back the foreskin enough to swirl his tongue over the tip and then under its edges. Rat kept muttering sweet nothings and weak insults depending on how much he was teased.

It was only a few minutes, but he couldn’t last in Hog’s warm mouth. The moment Hog decided to throat him to test it out, Rat came hard, moaning louder than ever. Unprepared, Hog choked on the sudden shot and struggled to ride Rat out. When Junkrat went limp, Hog pulled off and coughed, muttering quiet curses.

“Sorry, mate, I thought I could hold on,” Junkrat said, leaning on one elbow to look at Roadhog who was pounding his chest with his fist.

“No worries,” he choked out between coughs. “Was it alright?”

“Fucking amazing. Like an angel came down and suck me off, you even need to ask? Need to scream my head off more next time?” Rat clamored off the bed, sliding back up to Roadhog. He tugged up his pants and got on his elbows and knees in front of Hog’s lap. “Can I return the favor?“ Those words came low and breathy. “Please?”  
Hog was almost afraid to say yes to that dangerous face. Junkrat’s eyes were hooded and the glint behind them was terrifyingly seductive. He was already nuzzling against Hog’s thighs, mouth parted invitingly. Licking his lips, Hog tugged down the sweatpants, freeing his significantly larger erection.

Rat came to life and grabbed the pants, yanking them down to Hog’s ankles before climbing into the space between his legs. Much like how he’d kissed Hog, rat went straight for the finish line and stuffed his mouth with cock. He pushed himself to take it all in one go, gagging as Hog’s length hit the back of his throat. In moments Hog was collapsed on the floor panting with one arm over his face.

Bobbing his head, Rat tried to talk every time he pulled back. “Come on. Let. Me. Hear you. Hog.” He pulled off and ran his tongue down until he could catch Roadhog’s balls in his mouth, licking through the hair and sucking on them one at a time. “Is it good?” he asked again.

Roadhog’s groans had been stifled through a clamped mouth. He chewed his bottom lip, but he couldn’t ignore rat’s question. “It’s good–“ he breathed, but the moment he started to speak, Rat was back throating him again and he let loose a deep moan and thrust up into the hot mouth that was engulfing him. Rat moaned back happily and sucked Hog voraciously. It was a messy job, teeth scraping him sometimes, but never enough to ruin it.

“Come on, give it to me,” Rat mumbled while teasing the rim of Hog’s head, nipping at the foreskin and sliding his tongue between it. “I’m hungry, give me a taste.”

Hog hadn’t really been into dirty talk particularly, but with Rat it was different and when he was pulled back into that blazing mouth again, he came violently. They moaned together, Rat sucking until Hog was too sensitive to take it anymore. He forced Rat off, who laughed at him and clamored over his gut to kiss him again without even wiping the spit smeared across his face. Exhausted, Roadhog held him there, not even bothering to tug up his pants.

“Was it good?” Rat asked again, grinning madly.

“Yea, it was good,” Hog breathed, laughing gently. “Christ.” That little add on set Rat off into his wild laughter that Roadhog adored so much. Eventually they found the strength to climb back into Hog’s bed, but little else.


	32. 19 Hours

He hadn’t even realized he’d fallen asleep. Looking over beside him, Rat was stretched out with his leg over Hog’s waist, drooling on his shoulder. Roadhog smiled as butterflies burst open in his stomach. He reflected on Rat’s words from last night. ‘I decided I wanted it too’. But did Rat really understand the depth of emotion behind Hog’s constant attention to him?  
As he watched Rat sleep, Hog tried to think of how he could tell Rat eloquently that this was more than attraction, to him at least. What could explain what it meant to be this human again? He had buried so much of himself after the meltdown, crushing down the things that made him Mako to make room for Roadhog. Now he was both. He was Hog who crushed men’s heads and liked it, and he was also Mako who could laugh and smile with his friends. His self inflicted isolation had made him stagnate, even shrink as a person. Then Rat had come and kicked in his heart’s door and burned down the walls he’d built inside. The bastard.

He carefully reached over to pet him, but old habits die hard and the touch had Rat’s eyes burst open, there was brief panic that faded fast, and without even wiping the drool he gave Hog a cocky grin. Hog just kept stroking his hair. Junkrat leaned into the touch, tactile as ever, reveling in having his scalp massaged.

“We shoulda iced it while we could,” he rumbled, careful not to touch the egg that had formed on Rat’s forehead.

“Huh?

“Your forehead.”

Rat immediately prodded his head for the bump and rammed it with his fingers clumsily. “Fuck!” he yelped. Hog closed his eyes and sighed. Teeth clenched until the throbbing stopped, he then assessed it more gently. “Must look like a unicorn, huh?”

“More like you grew a third eye.”

“So it’s really noticeable huh?”

“Just put your hat back on.”

“Right.” He fidgeted, trying to find a more comfortable position, but was restless from sleeping. Finally he just sat up and kept touching the bump on his head. “Glad it don’t feel weird.”

“Huh?” Hog grunted, ready to doze off again.

“Thought it might end up all awkward after havin’ a naughty ya know?” Finding that poking at the lump on his head would indeed keep hurting, he switched to picking at his teeth.

Hog was quiet and it made Rat worry. He looked at him and found Roadhog staring off and away. “Same. Didn’t wanna say anything that might scare you off.” He still looked contemplative, even anxious, but Rat didn’t push it.

“Man I hope we didn’t blind Moira, eh?“  
“You already flashed them, if there was gonna be permanent damage it was already done.”

“Did I?” Rat said, scratching his chin, but shrugging it off. 

Suddenly Roadhog remembered. “Shit, you haven’t been able to write in your journal.” Rat turned and blinked, his eyes falling back to his arm and the sting of tears hit him again.

Rubbing them away, he grimaced, “Christ, am I gonna get weepy every time I think about somethin’ I can’t do anymore?”

“Probably.”

“Roadie!” he screeched, smacking him in the shoulder. “That ain’t what yer supposed to say! Yer supposed to reassure me.”

“Crying’s good for you.” 

Hog’s insistence made Rat pout. Hopping off the bed, he crossed his arms indignantly. “Cryin’s for babies and I ain’t a baby.”

“You were literally just crying a second ago. No one’s gonna think less of you.” 

Rat’s face scrunched up at that. He was determined to deny it, but at the same time– it was like a load had been lifted after breaking down last night. Days of slowly being crushed under the weight of his worries, fears, and pain. His heart still ached with grief and he was certain he’d break again, but it was so much easier to even think about his arm and to think about the future.

“I’ll be countin’ on ya again then,” he finally said. Hog smiled.

Turner knocked on the doorframe, deliberately not looking in, likely well warned from Moira. 

“We ain’t rootin’ no more,” Rat called, a bastard’s smile on his face. 

With a heavy sigh, Turner looked in on them finally. “Yea, congrats. Anyways we didn’t get to finish talking details and now its morning of so we need to bust our asses. Get your clothes back on, pack up the mess you made and meet me in the lobby. Chop chop.”

It still threw Hog off when she was curt like this. He’d been coming to her for years and honestly, it was like seeing your teacher outside of school. Suits weren’t supposed to cuss or cry or be human. The two of them did as she ordered and hustled out.  
Moira and Turner were waiting for them, looking anxious. All of them piled into a company limo, which tipped Rat into mania. While he scooted his ass across ever inch of the spacious seating, chattering about how swanky it was, Turner set her elbows to knees, hands clasped tight.

She addressed Roadhog quietly. “You’re going to get your last dose of Enhance today. You’ll have 24 hours before it the withdrawals cripple you. And I mean cripple. The drug is a failed derivative from a U.S. military program. It was never even cleared to be sold, but Kredithai bought it up as something to deal to junkers. If you are not under medical care when the time comes, more than likely you’ll not survive without it. Junkrat might, but given the status of your lungs you’re at risk.”

Her words made his hands tremble. He hadn’t realized the severity of it. Things he couldn’t fight with his hands were always– terrifying. Maybe he’d gone into nursing for that reason too. A way to fight back against the things that hid in his own body. 

“Speaking of which,” she started, reaching into her purse. “Here.” She held out an inhaler kit. “There’s both that healing blend of yours and the anti asthmatic mix you wanted. Compact, but high dosage.”

He took it gently, running a thumb over the cloth case. “Turner. Sorry for all those times I broke your furniture.”

She snorted, putting a hand over her mouth while she laughed. “God, you were always so terrifying. Like you were polite, but when I had to try and swindle you, well– let’s just say I almost pissed myself a couple times.”

Hog laughed too, pleased that things had turned out this way. Maybe he could learn from her. She lost her eye for them, but any hint of resentment was gone. “I’m sorry about this too,” he said, tapping his corresponding eye. “I really am. I would have done things differently if I’d known.”

“No you wouldn’t have,” she replied flatly, amusement hiding in her expression. “You didn’t know me. Why would you risk your boyfriend for some suit? Even if you’re only half junker that’s just common sense. Everyone suffers out here, it’s life.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. She was so certain and maybe she was right. “I’m still sorry.”

“I forgive you.” It came off her tongue so lightly. Like it was nothing. “I was lucky to get by untouched for so long. Besides. What you’re both doing now, this sacrifice, is more than enough to buy my forgiveness,” she said, ending with a chuckle. 

“You’re a better person than I am.” He said it with a tinge of sadness.

“We’re all monsters here, Mako.” She put a hand on his for just a moment. “I hope you make it out.”

A few hours later they found themselves on the edge of civilization. Rat was pressed to the windows, staring at the distant skyscrapers. They were so much bigger than the ones Hog remembered. The limo stopped and the pick up that had been following behind pulled up beside. Its driver got out and got into the front seat of the limo. Strapped down in the back was Hog’s beloved chopper under a protective tarp. 

The four of them separated quietly. It was a dry affair with the exception of the hug that Moira pulled them into. “Oi!” Rat yelled, struggling against the vice grip she’d put around his neck. Hog just let himself be embraced. 

Then they were alone. The junkers climbed into the truck, the feeling of normalcy they’d had before in their plainclothes vanished as they drove into sight of the last real town before Outback proper. The few people you could see were so neat, so clean, so untouched. Hog shifted and looked through the rearview mirror at the scarring that hugged the curve of his head. And Rat’s missing pieces were hallmark identifiers of junker life. Their dark and burned up skin respectively told of years under the sun. The longer Hog thought on it the more certain he became that there was also a layer of grime they just hadn’t been able to scrub off.

Per Turner’s instructions, he turned onto the hyperway. They passed through the yellow hardlight curtain and they both panicked at the sensation of the vehicle suddenly folding its tires for hover mode. 

“Things have really changed,” Hog commented as cars on the other side of the hyperway zoomed past in a colorful blur.

Rat was entranced by the quickly passing lights of the dimly lit tunnel. “This is amazing! I didn’t know anything could go this fast!” He started to roll down the window, but air blew in so violently it shook the pane so from the driver’s side Hog rolled it back up.

“Don’t just do shit.” Hog started to chide, but then a holo prompt emerged from the dash.

“Your entry scan has found you to be lacking driver’s identification. If you do have your identification please present it for scanning.”

They both went quiet, knowing full well that this was the start of it. The holo prompt remained there for the next fifteen minutes, then spoke again. “Failure to present identification will result in police confrontation at the end of the hyperway. The ticket for driving without your identification is 1,000 credits and or jail time. Please present identification.”

Another fifteen minutes passed and finally it switched to red, “No identification provided,” it announced, then turned off.

“Well, we’ve got another hour before the hyperway ends, then we’re officially on the run.” He looked at Rat who was well between excited and anxious. “Could you pick out a gun for me?”

The request was mostly to occupy that mind for a little bit and Rat probably knew it, but dove into their sack of goodies anyways. He ignored the pistols and went straight for the hand cannon. It was the only small arm that Hog could hold. From there, he weighed the options of the sub machine gun or the shotgun.

“I can’t believe these are just plastic. What more crazy things they got out there, huh?”

“Pretty sure most modern weapons aren’t plastic, this is just what we have to use to get them around security checkpoints.”

“They said they wouldn’t hold up long. That’s why we got so many. Just empty ‘em and drop ‘em.” He looked over them again, still curious about their internal components. “If we can pick up some real goods, the sooner the better I say.”

“Again, cities are riddled with security tech we don’t know well yet. We’ll stick to these until we get to the doctor’s.”

“Speaking of! How we know we can trust this guy? Like really? What if he sells us out?”

“Turner said he’s her uncle. He’s a Junktivist. Apparently that’s what they call the few folks out here who think leaving us all to rot out there might be morally wrong. He was on the ground floor of saving people who were on the edge of the meltdown’s range.”

“I guess not everyone forgot.” His words grew quiet and distant. “River told me a scary story about getting sent with a doctor in the city. I guess it’s been on my mind. Not that I have much for a doctor to take.”

That made Hog turn and look. River. They hadn’t really talked about them or what happened in ages.

“They got their heart stolen. Literally.” Rat barked a laugh, then curled back up in his seat. “They mentioned some stuff about how the world out here saw junkers too. Out of sight out of mind they said.”

Thick silence filled the truck.

“Thank you,” Junkrat said finally.

“Huh?”

“If I’d finished River’s bomb and gone through with it– I woulda been shouldering the same burden as you. But worse. So much worse.”

Hog reached over and pulled Rat in, hugging him soothingly, then with not a small amount of nervousness, pressed a kiss on his forehead. Rat sighed and let himself lean on Hog for a minute. They spent the rest of the ride in preparatory silence.

Then there it was. The yellow hardlight curtain. They passed it and sure enough a police car puled in behind them, lights flicking on. The jarring sensation of shifting from hover to tires shook them again. Hog took a breath and slammed his foot on the accelerator, twisting the steering wheel to cross into the oncoming traffic of people about to enter the hyperway. 

Suddenly the sirens on the police car switched on, and Rat was hooting with delight, hand tightly wrapped around a sub machine gun. 19 hours left.


	33. Anger Management

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta this time so if you see any glaring issues please tell me (￣ー￣;;)

Horns honking, siren screaming, and the sound of his own blood pumping. It was overwhelming as he skidded and cut through. They clipped the front of a beautiful sports car and spun out. Roadhog course corrected and pulled them out of they way with the police car more carefully navigating behind them. The engine roared as he pushed it to go faster. 

Cutting out onto the regular streets, he nearly jumped out oh his skin when the holoprompter projected bright red and blared “PULL OVER NOW. YOU ARE COMMITTING A CRIME. CONTINUED RESISTANCE WILL–“ Hog put his fist through the console. When he pulled back the shattered glass had cut up his hand, not that he noticed. 

The tore up the streets, the police car hugging behind them was joined by two more. The truck was heavy and couldn’t outrun the sleek police vehicles. But hell if couldn’t take a hit. Suddenly another car pulled into the middle of the road, blocking their way through. Hog twisted to squeeze the truck through the space between it and the parked cars, crashing into it without ever letting up. It went flying out of the way and their truck slid wildly, bouncing off into a streetlamp that caved in the side. 

Pushing on, the chase escalated until a full patrol of cars were in tow. They were slowly cornering the pair, throwing down more serious blockades peppered with spike strips. They’d be forced to turn and find a new path. “They’re fucking railroading us,” Hog said through gritted teeth. “This is gonna lead on to a dead end, if we don’t break through some where.”  
“I got this mate! Just go ahead and ram through the next blockade ya see!” Rat yelled, unbuckling his seat. He shot once through the back window, then kicked it out. Climbing through, he fell into the bed of the truck. Hog worried, but there was no time to let himself do anything but drive.

Rat went under the tarp and pulled out his crazy tire. “I thought we told you not to fucking bring that thing!” he screamed, catching a glimpse in the mirror. Eyes blazing with that special lust he had for explosions, Junkrat prepped it, fighting the veering of the truck, until finally, he propped himself the back of the cab, on leg on the tire, and yanked the starter string. It roared to life, the spikes in it scraping the bed painfully until it leapt out and over the truck.

“Fire in the hole!” Rat screamed, wind dulling his words.

With no choice but to trust Rat, he held steady in the face of the next pile of cops blocking his way. The tire soared over them, leaving the truck in the dust as it rolled headlong into the blockade. In the heart of it the tire exploded brilliantly, throwing up flames and smoke in a way that made Junkrat want cry with joy.

Sure enough whatever car, cops or spike strip that had been in the surrounding area had been thrown into the buildings along the street. Men screamed and wailed, but this little victory was enough to send Hog into roaring laughter. Rat threw himself back into the cab, cackling madly with him.

“Ain’t done yet!” Rat said, pulling out a handful of vials from his personal pack that Hog terrifyingly recognized as his explosive jellies. 

“You been trying to get us killed?” he yelled, but the brutal grin on Rat’s face didn’t fade. He rolled down the window, and let his upper half hang out. His hat blew off instantly and using his teeth he bit off the tops to the vials, then tossed them a good distance behind their vehicle. The cruisers that had followed the past the barricade were greeted by a number of explosions as the jellies hit the ground and rolled their cars. That unbridled nightmare of a laugh came rippling out of his mouth, as he watched the cars pile up with resounding crashes and ear splitting squeals from brakes used too late.

They drove on for a while and when rat kept hanging out the window, watching in awe at his work, Hog finally grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him back in. “We’re switching out,” he said. They swerved into a parking building, slipping into the darkened depths. Panting, Hog realized he wasn’t just breathing hard, he was gasping. Swallowing thickly, he worked the kit out his pack and shakily pulled out the inhaler. He breathed deep while Rat practically vibrated in his seat, ranting about his explosions.

When the air came back to him, Hog reached out and grabbed Rat by the back of the neck and slammed his head into the dash. It was gentle for how pissed he was, and more than enough to make Rat cry out, holding the already sore bump on his head.

“What the fuck, mate?”

“What the fuck is right?” Hog yelled, straining against his seatbelt at Rat. “You risked our lives, bringing that shit, what if one of those bottles had gotten too shook up? I was fucking hitting shit with this truck and those things were in here? And the fucking tire too? You can’t just do fuck all and not tell me!” By the end of it he was still breathing hard, not good practice for his asthma, but it slowed normally.

Junkrat, still cradling his head, didn’t say anything back. Hog had never looked this pissed at him, and not with his mask off. He watched Hog, put his hands back on the steering wheel, pressing his forehead against it to ground himself. Blood dripped down his hand still, some dried, some fresh.

“Sorry, I just thought they’d come in handy.” Hog could hear the righteousness in his voice, but let it drop.

“Let’s unload.” He hopped out and made for the bed of the truck to pull out his bike. Junkrat scrambled to collect all their bags and joined him. As he undid the straps, Rat cleared his throat. “I uh, I guess I should tell you I brought a few more things–“

Yanking off the tarp, Hog sighed as he saw Rat’s sidecar had a bag in it with plastic explosives, some experimental pieces, and plain old dynamite. He gave Rat a hard look, who smiled uneasily. “They don’t got metal in ‘em?”

Hog turned back to the bike and pulled it off the truck bed while Rat watched. When it was loaded and they were sitting, ready to go, Hog took the moment to say, “Those were some pretty cool explosions. The tire worked like a charm.” Junkrat exploded with energy, leaning over to him from the sidecar as they took off.

“Wasn’t it though? I practically cracked a fat watchin’ it!” Hog shoved him back into the sidecar and pulled out carefully on the other side of the lot. The sounds of chaos they’d left behind was still going, but for now they were not what the cops were looking for. They needed to find someplace to hide out in until things calmed down enough to scram again.

Driving casually down the streets, Hog didn’t move directly away from the mess, he worked his way around, taking side streets and alleyways as only a motorcycle could. Every sound and every look their way was worrisome. How good a look they’d gotten at Rat was up in the air. Fortune was with them though as the pulled into cargo depot in the industrial zone. It was closed for the weekend and the chain locking the gate was easily undone.

The pulled into one of the bays and heaved a sigh of relief. Hog slipped off the bike and let himself fall into one of the disembodied car seats the workers had left about in the corner for break time. The cracked leather wheezed under his weight. “Let’s lay low for a few hours, then we can switch rides again.”

“Ye seem kinda practiced at this Hoggy,” Rat said, kicking up his legs in the sidecar. “Ye’ve never told me about what you did before, other than the nursin’ stuff.”

Roadhog cleared his throat to stifle a laugh. “Well, I haven’t done anything this elaborate before, but I ran with a rough crowd. To pay for school I got into some small time robbery. We’d roll in with one set of wheels then switch to another. Cops wouldn’t know what they were looking for. Hope it still works.”

“I knew you was a ruffian at heart. Ye were never as civilized as the rest, were ya?”

“I guess. I didn’t really want to do stuff like that, but you don’t get the chance when the circumstances are against you.“ His voice had that far away tone, of someone seeing a world only he knew.

Staring with abandon, Rat crept out of the sidecar and over to Hog. He crouched next him, arms wrapped around his legs. Hog finally noticed and jerked with surprise. “So, Roadie,” Rat wheedled, “Ye still mad at me?”

Turning away, Hog still felt uncomfortable sometimes when someone looked him in the eyes. “It’s over and done with.”

“Ye sure, you couldn’t get mad at me again?” A devilish smile started to split Junkrat’s face. “Maybe throw me around a little?” His hand slid right up Hog’s leg, but it was stopped in its tracks. Gripping his wrist, Roadhog snapped his head back.

“Are you seriously trying to get some while we’re on the run? We gotta stay on alert.”

“Come on,” Rat whined, moving closer, “I been nursin’ this hard on since we blew them pigs to hell. And ye said we gotta kill a couple hours, right? Riiight?” He pushed himself into Hog’s lap and batted his lashes. Hog caught him by the jaw and pressed a kiss that Rat immediately deepened, scrambling for more contact.

Hog let them kiss a few moments longer, letting the literal taste of temptation sit on his tongue. But he pulled Rat off, depositing him on the floor. “We can mess around when we’re not in danger. This is too important.” Rat made a few more attempts at convincing Hog including just wrapping himself around his leg and just whining loudly.

Clasping a hand over his mouth, Hog squeezed like a vice. “Enough. Okay?” Shivers went up Rat’s spine. He ran his tongue over Hog’s palm who pulled it back. Making a face, Hog wiped off the spit and cautiously relaxed when Junkrat didn’t start advancing again.

“Well,” breathed Rat, scooting back until his back was against the front tire of the chopper, “Ya don’t mind if I take care of it myself then?”

“Fine, just keep it down.” It wouldn’t be the first time Rat had scuttled into a corner and jerked it while Hog kept watch. But this time was different. Junkrat didn’t go anywhere, instead he started slipping off his pants right there in front of him. His erection popped out and Rat did his very best to show off the goods.

Burying his face in his palm, Hog wondered if it was too late to reconsider falling in love with this idiot. As Rat started to play with himself, Hog sat back and crossed his arms, determined not to let himself get goaded. Across from him though, Rat was starting to go at it with more fervor. The sound of slapping and heavy breathing filled the quiet of the cargo bay. Hog’s eyes betrayed him and he looked down. Rat was staring at him and grinned the moment their eyes met. He jerked harder, arching his back while he had the attention he wanted so bad.

Swallowing thickly, Hog looked away again, but with the image of a flushed, writhing Rat seared into his mind. Junkrat laughed quietly and moaned his name softly, watching the blush on Hog’s face deepen. He was almost sure that he could see Hog getting hard too, but he couldn’t be certain. Hog glanced at him again, biting his lower lip gently and Rat pushed himself to the finish line while those eyes were on him again. Grunting, finally squeezing his eyes shut, he finished all over his hand.

Hog was sweating and hated himself for the dull throb in his groin. He was the real idiot here, letting himself watch Rat cum. But at least it was over Rat gave himself those last pumps, then collapsed on the cement floor. Without a second thought he licked his hand clean and for a second there Hog thought he might just up and die right there. Something about the way Junkrat had lazily cleaned himself like it was the natural thing to do took Hog from zero to sixty.

And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it, not without shaming himself for falling into Rat’s stupid trap. Hog opted to sit there uncomfortably with his hard on replaying the show he’d seen while Rat lounged comfortably, looking like the cat that ate the canary.

16 hours left. 

Hog had shaken off his lust and they were back to work. From this lot they’d pulled into they boosted another vehicle, this time a windowless van, perfect for stashing their bike in. Rat jumped the thing no problem even though he’d never even worked with a modern car before. He still impressed Hog after all this time. They drove out, tension consuming them.

Every moment that went by where they weren’t immediately caught let them relax a little more. Rat set the GPS once he felt bold enough to do something other than sit low in his seat. 

When the map appeared Hog stared at it, disturbed by how far they had to go and how much farther each city sprawled. The initial hyperway jump was literally the only way to get from the boonies to anywhere near the coast in the time constraint they had. It was the major hurdle to entering civilization given your average Outback survivor didn’t have access to modern vehicles or to 3D printed weaponry or to a Junkrat. And trekking there without using it meant passing through town after town while trying to avoid the attention of local enforcement who’d call it in.

As they sat in the grueling traffic that Hog very much so did remember and found to be just as bad as in his memories, they nibbled on the few dry rations they had. Enhance was meant to suppress hunger and fulfill dietary needs, but that didn’t stop the urge to just eat because you’re bored. They pulled off an hour later to dose Rat with his painkillers. They were stopped in the parking lot of a refill station. As soon as he was shot up, Rat dismissed himself to take a piss.

Waiting in the van, Hog let himself close his eyes and breathe for just a minute. Then there were gunshots. He snapped to attention and looked out the window at where Rat had gone. He was standing over an omnic, breathing hard, pistol in hand. He jerked his head up at the van and ran for it.

Before Hog could get a word out, Rat screamed, “It scanned my fucking face, we gotta roll!” He was staring out the window at the omnic which was slowly getting back up. When he heard the door opening, Junkrat looked over and saw Hog getting out. “What are ye doin’?” he screamed after him, turning around to watch Hog head over to the omnic that was no standing. With a sandaled foot Hog kicked it over again. It’s chest creaked as he stepped on it and pushed the shotgun up under the chest plate. 

The omnic panicked, but it wasn’t a military model, it wasn’t strong enough to resist. “Please– don’t! Please–” It’s voice is so emotive Hog thought as he pulled the trigger. The lights of its eyes flickered and went off. He yanked the gun out and jogged back to the van. 

“I didn’t even think about that,” Hog said quietly as he jerked their ride out of the lot. “They’re probably all hooked into the system.”

“How’d ya know to shoot in there?” Rat asked, clearly in awe of how efficiently Hog had eradicated it. Junkrat had almost emptied his gun in it, but that had just knocked it down. 

“Humanoid models reflect their creators. The chest is also has the most space to house the battery.” He gritted his teeth, lip curling. “Can’t believe they’ll let those things walk around here like people, but us, real, living, breathing human beings are stuck in that fucking hell hole!” His voice was an eruption, scorching his throat with rage. He grabbed his inhaler and puffed it again, struggling to calm down. His words ignited Rat too who shakily looked at the gun in his hands.

“I’ll shut the next one down proper,” he snarled. It seemed they’d finally started pulling into the city proper because the number of civilian omnics walking around was ticking up. The inside of the van was a veritable oven of loathing as they drove onward. Hog wanted to switch rides again, but now it was hard to find a vehicle out of sight enough to lift. 

Finally Hog ended their meandering and went ahead and drove into an underground parking lot for some miscellaneous office that towered several stories high. Most of the cars were sedans or even smaller. As much as Hog loved his bike, he was starting to contemplate if they should leave it behind. But thankfully someone in this office was going through the right mid life crisis. A monstrous truck, waxed and shiny, was what they loaded up into next.

Hog punched out the rear window for Rat to climb in and jump it, but they’d only just finished loading up when the elevator dinged. Security officers with sidearms drawn form up behind them.

“Step away from the vehicle and place your hands in the air.” The pair looked at each other and slowly followed instruction. Rat stepped forward a little ahead of Hog so the pistol tucked into the back of his pants was visible. The officers stepped forward cautiously in turn. When they were at the right distance, Hog pushed off and tackled the mass of the group. The bursts of searing pain from gunshots erupted in his gut, but he didn’t let himself flinch. While they’re distracted Rat fired the rest of his gun into the air around them forcing a retreat.

Struggling through the pain, Hog grabbed the closest guy and twisted his arm, using him as a human shield. He backed up to the truck where Rat had already scrambled into the cab to toss him the shotgun. 

From behind a cement pillar, the same voice called, “The authorities have been alerted and are on their way.”

“God, who’s fuckin’ car is this?” Rat hissed, peeking over at the shoulders peeking out from behind other cars and pillars. Hog can feel his blood spattering over his toes as he tries to figure out how to deal with this. The change in technology left so many factors up in the air. He missed his hook and he missed his real gun. 

“Release the hostage. Further aggression will only escalate the severity of punishment.”

Maybe it was the weeks of quiet living, maybe it was the remaining anger from seeing omnics living peacefully in this city, but something snapped. “Violence is usually the answer,” he rumbled. He taking a heavy breath, he ran forward, dragging his hostage along with. Rat reignited with energy, rolling out of the cab after Hog, the dufflebag of weapons slung around his chest.

“I missed this!” Rat yelped as Hog blasted through the closest guy. From behind the his enormous bodyguard, Rat tried firing the little submachine gun. Without the control of his dominant hand however, it came dangerously close to just shooting Hog in the back. But it did at least provide enough covering for Hoggy to start tearing into a group of three.

He threw his hostage at them, swinging an arm into the closest head, which slammed backward into a car door, leaving a smear of blood. He unloaded another round into one before bringing the gun down over the last’s one head. The plastic shattered into pieces, fueling his rage. 

More gunfire came from around the pillar, sending Rat jumping for cover again. Another bullet lodged itself into Hog, cutting straight through his shoulder. He grabbed a corpse and held it up while digging out his inhaler bag. “Rat! Switch!” He slid the bag under the car to Rat, who in turn threw the dufflebag over.

Hog traded in weapons for the submachine gun Rat had nearly peppered him with. It was small a light, but it would have to do. A couple pistols and the hand cannon got tucked into his pockets. His aim was steady compared to Rat’s. Laying down covering for for himself he was on the man who’d speaking to them in an instant.

Meanwhile Rat switched out the inhaler cartridge for hogdrogen. From behind two more guys were coming out of hiding for Hog who was busy beating someone’s face in. Forgetting about guns, Rat just leapt on the back of the closest one and bit into his shoulder. These gold teeth had more than one use. There was an audible crunch as he tore into muscle. The other security officer looked on in horror as Rat went feral on his coworker.

Thrown off, finally, Rat rolled and fired off the second pistol he’d grabbed, blowing holes in the guy. He started to aim at the second guy, but Hog came charging through and barreled into him. Grabbing him by the collar, he lifted him only to slam their skulls together so hard that blood burst from the guy’s nose and mouth. He screamed and Hog did it again and he was silent.

The two of them stood panting, Hog more so. Rat held out the inhaler, which Hog took gratefully. Breathing deep, the holes in his body closed up. In the newly made quiet the gentle clinks of bullets being pushed out of him and onto the ground echoed.

“Fuck,” Hog said when the inhaler was emptied. “We just wasted so much time and ammo. Let’s go.”

The wail of sirens reached their ears.

13 hours left.


	34. Role Switch

The thought of ripping his hair out sat heavy on his mind as the pressure of the situation doubled. Hog looked at the truck, loaded up, tarp thrown over their bike, then at the men and women collapsed on the ground either dead or wounded. Junkrat was giving their weapons a quick count. As he stood there in the underground lot, with one way in and one way out, with low ceilings– Hog felt desperately trapped. His heart started to thump wildly. He was a noisy breather to begin with, but as his throat clenched with the stress the sound of his gasping echoed throughout the lot.

Junkrat looked up from the bag to see Roadhog starting to kneel down one hand on his chest one hand on his knee. He was struggling to control the attack long enough to change out his inhaler cartridge. Rat dove for him, grabbing the right cartridge and thumbing out the old one. Roadhog blinked, still half occupied with focusing in his breathing, but the thought that Junkrat knew what to do and could help hadn’t come to him as a possibility.

Handing Hog the inhaler, Junkrat watched nervously. A few puffs and the horrible sound Hog had been making dissolved into his usual rumbling breaths. “Mate, maybe ye ought to put yer mask on? Air ain’t as clean as in Turner’s. Ain’t been a day and you’ve huffed a couple of these.”

Hog shook his head and got up again, slowly. More time wasted. He could hear the sirens clearly now. “We gotta go, we can’t look suspicious, we have to drive out acting natural and hope we don’t get caught.”

“Not that ye haven’t been brilliant today Hog, but that’s a crappy plan.” Rat said gently with an uncomfortable smile. “Listen mate, here’s what I’m thinkin’. We leave everything here as is. Take what we can carry and let the bike be. We can always track her down later. After the doc’s seen us. I know you love that bike, but it was a burden on our plans from the get go. I didn’t say nothin’ cuz I knew how you felt, but I mean– I left our guns behind. All me scrap and half done trinkets. They meant a lot too. But survivin’ comes first.”

A heavy sense of guilt weighed on him. Hog had known the bike was a burden, but for so long she’d been his only tie to the world he had known. Even now standing in this world though he realized he was never going to find his old world again. Nothing was the same, nor would it ever be. Deep down there’d been some strange hope that he would find everything familiar and it would help heal him, but this place was just as strange as Junkertown. Maybe even more so since the Outback had become familiar over the years. Roadhog nodded. “Then what now?”

“Now!” Rat said brightly as the sound of police cars pulling into the parking building echoed through the lot, “We go up!” He limped over to the elevator, dufflebag rattling noisily. Roadhog followed, taking the bag off him as they stepped inside. Rat punched the top floor button. Blinking, Hog asked, “Wouldn’t going to the top mean they’d trap us? Shouldn’t we try and sneak out of the lobby?”

Junkrat grinned in that feral way of his when he was thinking of hurting someone. “I have a feelin’ they sent most o’ their guards downstairs. And you know how suits are. We say hello and they’ll bend over backwards for us.” Roadhog wondered if this was really the best idea, but let himself fall silent as they were pulled up towards the top of the skyscraper.

When the doors slid open, they were faced with a large empty entry room except for two surprised security officers. Rat had been on the money. They looked horrified, which was a bit much Hog thought. They were rather cleaned up all things considered. Hog was winding himself up to charge the man closest to him, but Rat got to him first. Ah. As the blur that was Rat tackled the first man, Roadhog remembered the blood smeared across Rat’s mouth from biting people. No wonder they’d looked so scared.

By the time Hog recovered from his thoughts, Rat had incapacitated them. Amped up on adrenaline Junkrat stood with a manic, open–mouthed smile between his victims. They were writhing on the floor. Hog finished them off with a quick twist each. Worry was still eating at Roadhog about this, but he was going to trust Rat.

They pushed the double doors open and found about what they expected. A luxurious office with one suit. Backed against floor to ceiling windows his figure scrambled for the phone, but a quick draw on Hog’s part stopped that. He approached a leisurely pace, gun steady. Shambling ahead, Junkrat didn’t even get to say hello before the suit was asking them what they wanted.

Rat grinned at how well he’d called it, using his one good arm to hoist himself onto the desk, sending a flurry of papers and knick–knacks flying. “Well, mate,” he started, laying back and making himself comfortable, “we’s gots some blueheelers on us ya know, and while I’m sure they could over power two little fellas like us if they knew we were here– they wouldn’t get us before we got you.” He winked and the man, Howard (according to the little plaque now lying on the floor), went even paler if such a thing was possible.

“So,” Rat continued, “Yer gonna enforce your rights as a citizen and tell ‘em ta fuck off if when they come sniffin’. Got it?” He leveled the handgun lazily, wiping his bloody mouth against his shoulder while he as at it. Howard nodded, hands gripping the arms of his chair so hard the leather squeaked. Roadhog watched Rat with a tint of admiration. He’d assumed he’d have to take care of everything in the journey. He owed Rat a smooth trip, but that was an impossible dream to begin with and here was his boss smoothing everything over after Hog had lost his composure. Sometimes he forgot how clever he could be between bouts of dumbassery.

“Collect those dead guys, would ya Hog?” Junkrat asked, still gazing at their hostage. Hog grunted and went out to collect the corpses. With two men over his shoulders, he wandered back in to find Rat had hopped off the table and was now shoving a chaise that had been off to the side to the corner, behind the one of the double doors. Howard wasn’t budging from his chair. Hog deposited the dead at the back of the room behind the suit. A nice reminder of what could be if he messed up and the guy seemed to take it to heart.

It wasn’t a few minutes later that the secretary paged up that a couple of police officers were coming up. Junkrat winked at Howard who uneasily stood up and waited at the door that wasn’t blocked. Hog and Rat sat and watched as he talked with the cops who were just a few feet away. They asked for security tapes and to search the premises, but Howard did his job and fended them off with demands for warrants to everything before he’d allow it.

When it was done, he shakily stepped back and eyed them. Rat nodded approvingly which made him relax slightly. “Tie him up would you, mate?” Roadhog did it and by the time he finished constraining Howard to his chair with his tie and belt, Rat was fully reclined on the chaise. “And now we wait. Give it a good while and we’ll check downstairs and sneak out again.” Hog checked the time and grimaced, but accepted it. 

It took hours, slowly passing, painful hours for Hog. Rat occupied himself on Howard’s tablet, spending money on apps, taking and editing selfies, and generally amusing himself. For Roadhog though, the timer was counting down. They didn’t need to sleep or eat, but his nerves were on fire, hyperaware of each breath as the police slowly processed over the scene. They didn’t give it up until late into the night, and had to put off continuing for next day’s shift. From the security camera app they could check in and when there was the just guards for the crime scene, the pair finally headed out.

5 hours left.


	35. No More Time

Rat scratched at the remnants of dried blood on his face as they rode the elevator down. “Ya doin’ okay Hoggie?” He watched Hog nervously thumb the mask in his hands. He’d been persuaded to put it on when they got going. The air was better than it was back in Junkertown, but the atmosphere of the planet hadn’t recovered from what had happened generations past nor from what the omnium blast had done to it. But Hog couldn’t get his mind off the tension in his chest. Was it real? Was it imagined? He had time, but they hadn’t pushed themselves to the limit with the drug since that first time in the omnium and that had been brutal by itself. What if it stopped working now? Fear gently pressed down on him, feeding on itself, daring him to panic and use up another precious inhalant.

Downstairs, all was dark. Only the glow from the suit’s pilfered tablet lit they way out, but even that was put away as they slipped out into the dark. They walked down the street, putting the building out of sight with a few twists and turns. Rat insisted they walk a ways before trying to steal another ride. Given how things had ended, Hog agreed.

As they road along, there was an uncomfortable silence for a long while. Hog hadn’t noticed it when they were walking, the rhythm of movement masking the waves of tension floating off Rat. Legs tucked up against his chest, he stared out the window, brows furrowed and lips pursed up against his nose in that way he did when thinking big thoughts. Hog kept glancing over, wondering what was up and when he’d learned to interpret Rat faces so well.

Finally, the big sigh. Turning away from the window, Rat looked at Hog uneasily. “I know I hired ye as a body guard.” He stopped, making Hog look over. That seemed to be what he wanted, because he picked up again. “But that doesn’t mean I want that anymore.”

Hog glanced over when he could as another bloated pause came. “And I’m not sayin’ this cuz you fucked up or anything. I’m sayin’ it cuz you took it so serious and so– I dunno I could tell something was off,” he leaned against the door, “We take care of each other now, not you take care of me. Though we kind of been doin’ the first part for a while already.”

Twisting his grip on the steering wheel, Hog was overwhelmed. “I– “ he stammered, “I’m sorry.”

Jumping in his seat Rat tumbled across the console and grabbed on, making the car swerve. “I ain’t mad, Roadie. I just want you to understand. And not worry! All these crazy hijinks ain’t no fun if yer bein’ a stick in the mud.” He gave a cheeky smile, trying to ease up the mood.

“I don’t want to break my promise.”

Rat sat back and cocked his head. “What promise?”

“That I’d show you everything outside of Oz.”

“Oh.” A breath and then Junkrat snorted, placing his one hand over his mouth to hide his laughter. “Real romantic. Didn’t really think that hard of it when you said it, guess I should’ve.”

“Well, I meant it. When you forgave me it meant a lot.”

“Well… well!” Rat twiddled his thumbs, running his tongue against the seam of his lips. “I’d call it, more of a, change in perspective.” When Hog just gave him a silent look, he pushed on. “In that moment when I saw ya was gonna get cleaved– I just did it. And in that time afterward, the adrenaline was so strong I just kind of thought. And it came to me really clear that even if you’d lied to me about that, you were still the Hog who came and got me back when it would’ve been easier to let me rot with River. And who rubbed my leg so it wouldn’t hurt so bad. And would bring me treats from the market.”

“You remember me buying those for you?”

“I remember everything Hog related pretty good.” Junkrat smiled to himself. “But even when I weigh in all that now. It still hurt that ya didn’t tell me. I could go round and round about why you did it, but still. There’s a little voice that whispers, what if he’s hidin’ somethin’ else?”

Hog’s chest clenched. He was wasn’t he? Like an out of body experience he could see himself there in the car with Rat, for some reason not telling him this whole day that if they reach that 24 hour mark that it could kill him? Why? He looked over as if Rat’s face would give him the answer.

He could say that he hadn’t wanted Rat to worry, but why would it be any different from every time they’d run with death on their heels in Junkertown. His introspection opened a wide hole through which he could see it. Distrust. He’d been raised secretive and withdrawn. And never been one for lying so instead silence became his bosom friend. Always reliant on his own strength and his own mind and his own morals. When it came to his part in the destruction of the Outback, he had hated himself, so he’d thought Rat would too. And when it came to this he didn’t think anyone else could or should deal with it.

“Uh, Hog, we missed our turn?”

He came back and realized he was just sitting there thinking and driving. The little voice coming from their GPS was announcing their new route. “I– I uh,” he fumbled with the straps on his mask and pulled it off. “I am.”

“Huh?”

“I am hiding something I didn’t even think about it I didn’t even really consider it hiding I just–“ Rat’s face twisted something awful and it made Hog pull over. “If we don’t get there to the doctor in time Turner says my lungs are probably too rough to take it.”

Junkrat tried to stand inside the car, but ended up squatting in his seat, caught between several emotions, the foremost of which was urgency. “Well first of fuckin’ all, get driving! Second why the hell were you hidin’ something like this!” His voice went shrill and urgency flowed into anger as Hog pulled them back onto the road with a heavy foot on the gas.

Looking back over at Rat every moment he could, Hog tried to explain, “I don’t know! I just– I’m,”

“What do you mean you don’t know, at least the other thing made sense, what the hell was this about?” Rat was obviously ready to go stir crazy trapped in this car. He always wanted to pace and thrash when his emotions ran high.

“I just thought you didn’t need to know! Like it was a private matter–”

“And when you suddenly start dying what then? I thought we were fuckin’ good here. Were you lying about that romantic shit to?” He looked afraid when Hog looked at him.

“No! No. I am serious about that. I’m just so used to never telling anyone anything–“

“You tell me things all the time!”

Hog’s hands twisted against the steering wheel, teeth grit in frustration. “How much have I really talked about myself, Rat! You say you remember so really think about it do I talk a lot about what’s going on with me?”

Pursing his lips, eyes falling away, Hog could tell he was remembering just that. Their exchange of stories had always been shallow with rare gems of genuine exchange. Not that there was anything wrong with that. He loved joking and laughing and talking about nothing.

“It’s habit. I always used to hide things. And then who was there to share anything with? And then there was you.” He took a breath, then muttered, “I’m sorry.”

It took Junkrat a while to answer and Hog didn’t dare look over. Finally a hand found it’s way onto his hand as it gripped the steering wheel so tightly the metal was warping. “We both got a lot o’ problems, huh.” That lone, slender hand pushed at the creases between his fingers. Hog loosened up and let Rat intertwine their hands over the steering wheel. It made his heart pound. A sentimental, sweet, gentle touch that conveyed understanding.

Finally Hog got over his dumbfounded surprise and spiraling joy to twist his hand so they were palm to palm. His giant hand felt clumsy as he pulled Rat’s up and kissed it on the knuckles. Junkrat giggled in that endearingly creepy way and leaned against Hog. After such a brutal day it was enough to make Roadhog tear up. He blinked and let a few slip away. He was sure Rat noticed because a second later a boney cheek was working to find a closer spot on his shoulder.

The ride was warm and dreamy. Comforting. Their hands were disgustingly sweaty when they finally arrived at the doctor’s home, but they were still reluctant to let go.

“Certainly cut it close, huh?” the man asked, he looked at his watch, “An hour longer and you two would be in a state. Well, let’s get you set up, this is going to be a long process. But don’t worry you’re in good hands.” He grinned clasped his gleaming silver filigreed hands together in demonstration.

“Ye’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me–“ Rat started, face twisting into a toothy grimace. Hog grabbed his shoulder and forced him to look away.

“We don’t have a choice,” he said, equally unhappy with the omnic in front of them.

The smooth black screen of its face shifted its LEDs once more to express concern. “Something wrong gentleman?”

They turned back to him, Rat was barely not snarling and Hog just grim. “Nothing,” he said, taking the first step up the walkway toward their new doctor. “Turner just forgot to mention some things.”

“Ah,” he said quietly as they strode past him.


	36. Play Nice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> crawls out from the depths with a new chapter in hand. thanks to everyone for the nice comments while i was busy ignoring this fic haha
> 
> this chapter was beta'd by: slingerapen aka Applesap on here! read their fics or i'll stop updating again haha

The pair are greeted with a gentle chime as the house lets them in and reveals its extravagant interior. A mostly open floor plan with the only walls being made of slightly translucent hardlight. It’s modern and Rat growls quietly at all its luxury. Hog shares the sentiment. Seeing a place like this makes him draw comparisons to the wasteland they’d just left.

The omnic follows them, his heels clicking gently against the floor and in tandem they adjust to make sure their backs aren’t to him. Its face is blank now. “Let’s get your treatment started. Come,” he walks deeper into his home and leads them to a well equipped lab a floor down. There are omnic pieces everywhere, vials and tools, schematics and anatomy references. He taps a few things on a hardlight screen that covers one side of the room and some shelves rearrange, a few things light up, hardlight curtains fall into place around a pair of gurneys.

Rat jumps at every movement and he grinds out, “Is this supposed to be a house or an omnium?” Hog elbows Junkrat who just purses his lips. Hog’s glad being silent comes easy because his blood is boiling.

All this wealth wasted on something that couldn’t even feel. A descendant of the things that had torn open his home like ants on a baby bird. A casual glance over this room let him at least be certain this thing knew what it was doing. The set up, while more advanced than when he still practiced nursing, was basically what this medical procedure called for. 

His thoughts are interrupted when it gives a chuckle and slips off its suit jacket. They both wonder why it’s bothering to wear clothes. “I understand that you may have some– prejudices. But I assure you that you’re in safe hands.” The junkers bristle at the word safe with regards to an omnic, but they hold their tongues.

It turns away, preparing things then calls for them to lay in the gurneys. “I’m going to be administering–“

“Just shut up and do it,” Hog rasps. Every breath is painful and getting worse. Rat looks at him with worry, but doesn’t speak up.

The omnic nods and installs an IV line in their arms and places masks over their faces, which for Hog provides an instant relief to his labored breathing. “See you soon,” it says as Hog is about to slip under. Why was it bothering with bedside manner? Damn omnic.

When they wake up again their muscles are screaming, bodies aching and brittle. For Hog the sensation of being so weak he’s unable to even lift his torso is terrifyingly foreign. He thrashes his arms, trying to grip the edge of the gurney he barely fit in from the start, but strong metal hands grip his shoulders and force him to lay still.

It’s talking to him but panic is overriding his auditory processing. What he does hear is a loud crash and then there’s another hand on him. His one’s hard too, but it’s rough and holds his forearm with a firm, but tender grip.

The omnic abandons Hog to rush over to Rat who leaned too far until he fell out of his bed. There’s blood from where his IV got pulled, but when Hog looks down at him he’s smiling. It’s barely a smile really, Rat’s still so doped up that he can’t make his face work right, but Hog knows he’s smiling anyways. So Hog smiles too.

“Please stop trying to move, you’re still feeling the effects of sedation and furthermore the stimulant you were taking has been effectively pushing your muscles to the brink, weakness in the extremities is to be expected.” It goes to lift Rat back into bed, but Rat starts slapping at its hands.

“Keep yer fuckin’ mitts off me. I can get back up ya fucking tincan bastard.” He grabs the railing on the gurney and pulls up with his arm. It’s a hilarious effort. Sweat beads on his forehead as he lifts himself a measly inch off the ground and then drops back down.

The omnic sighs and helps Rat despite getting a light barrage of slaps on its head and chest. Hog looks around again, remembering why he was in this bed to begin with. He takes a deep breath and coughs. Lungs still busted, but the right amount busted. His body may feel like its made of lead weights but his chest feels lighter than it has in years. Makes him appreciate the cool filtered air being pumped into the room, despite the antiseptic stink anyplace medical has.

“So we lived.”

The omnic looks up from replacing Junkrat’s IV and its screen lays out a simple smile. “I told you you were in good hands.” Hog scoffs and lays back to sleep again.

When he wakes up again Rat’s still awake, or awake again? Who knows. He’s picking at the sheets expanding a little hole he either found or made. “Rat,” Hog croaks, “How you feeling?”

Rat snaps to attention. “Bored out my gourd, but living. Son of a bitch won’t let me out of bed.”

“Glad you decided to listen to ‘im.”

“Yeah well, couldn’t leave you alone. Who knows what it’d try.”

“Nothing more than what it already could have done while we were knocked out earlier.”

“Speakin’ of!” Rat bursts out, crawling onto his knees in bed. “Lookit what the bastard did to me leg!” He plops back down, swinging his prosthetic limb over the edge of the bed. It has a new coat of paint.

“Orange.”

“Who does he think he is messin’ with other people’s bits? Maybe I liked it how it was?”

“You couldn’t shut up about painting your leg and future arm before we came here.”

“Are you defendin’ it, mate?” Rat shrieks, gripping the gurney’s rail and leaning dangerously far over the edge again. Hog sits up, finding his body much more reactive this time, and pushes Rat back down a few inches.

“It’s playing human. It wants you to like it. Remember what Turner said? It supports junkers. Whatever cause we are I guess.”

Frowning, Rat sinks back into his bed, body contorting to take up as little space as possible. “Now that yer up though, we can fuckin’ leave.”

Hog thinks on this. He looks at Rat’s stump, bandaged now, but Hog knows what’s underneath. “He still needs to do your arm. If you want to use it. If you want a prosthetic, we have to play nice.”

“Who cares? I don’t. Let’s beat it mate. We’s can find a real doc somewhere out there.” Hog stares at him. The silence eats at Rat how Hog knows it does and starts to chatter again. “We might be wanted criminals, but there’s gotta be a black market here or at least a doc willin’ to take cash for keepin’ quiet!”

Hog breathes. Rat continues, “Might be a tight timeframe to find one, but I’m feelin’ lucky and we might be supplies and I can’t make more on account of havin’ no.. hand… we still–“ Rat trails off, looking at his stump. Hog grunts affirmatively.

“Think of it this way. Making him do all this for us is some kind of reparations.”

“Repar– what now?”

“Payback. Get ourselves fixed up on his dime because that fucking thing like all those fucking bots owe us. Besides, we can always,” Hog runs his thumb across his neck, “Later.”

That’s enough to get Rat riled up again. He grabs his IV stand and hops out of bed, using it to hold him up on shaky legs. Scrambling over to Hog’s bed he climbs in even though there’s honestly no room. But Rat’s practically a contortionist and he’s more than fine with being half way laid out on Hog.

“I love it when ya get pissed off,” he says giggling like a freak and letting his hand snake up Hog’s chest.

“Is that why you piss me off all the time?” Hog suddenly remembers that he and Rat are– something? Point is they– are. They’re a them. He rolls onto his side, wincing when the IV shifts, but could care less. Because he can grab Rat and pull him close. Christ, nothing mattered if Rat was right here within arm’s reach. Fuck thinking about omnics or plans.

Wriggling upward to get closer to his partner in crime, Rat keeps giggling. “Ain’t that what ya love about me?” Love. Hog still wondered if Rat knew just how much he cared, how pitifully head over heels he was. He grunts in the affirmative and kisses him. Rat’s breath stinks something awful, which makes Hog smile for some reason. It wouldn’t be Rat without the lack of basic hygiene he guesses.  
They kiss deep and messy, or at least Rat’s messy. He’s such a bad kisser, forcing his tongue into Hog’s mouth way too deep, but he gets reigned in with strong hands and timely nips. And Rat, well, Rat’s a fast learner.

Then there’s the sound of a throat being cleared. They look up at the omnic who’s hovering at the entrance to the room. “I see you’ve both recovered fully from your sedation.” It winks at them and they hate it.

“With that in mind, let’s move onto dealing with your arm, Mister Jamison.”


	37. Finally

Rat practically goes feral at the name. “How d’ya know that? How’d you get that name?” He’s halfway up to leap out of bed again, but Hog sits up and gets a firm grip around the idiot before he can go chew the bot’s face off for using his dead name.

Holding Rat tight to his side, Hog takes a rattling breath, “Keep my given name off your processor too.”

The omnic freezes in place, apparently surprised by the reaction. “My apologies. I obtained it from the remnants of the child fingerprint identification system. And– I found your name there – “

“Stay away from my fingers and their prints you fucking billy!” He’s flailing in rage, but can’t get free. The omnic watches him, its LED expression shifting to curiosity. Something clicks for Roadhog. It’s fascinated. They’re just specimens aren’t they? It makes his blood boil, but Hog’s used to putting the lid on a letting his feelings simmer.

“Why’d you look at Rat’s prints?”

It glances up with a smile. “I was deleting them from police evidence. I also removed that stolen vehicle from the premises. You two left a lot of destruction in your wake. So I eliminated some key pieces that would link you two to that destruction.”

Something about that little bit of dialogue leaves Hog cold. Maybe there’s more to this than fascination. Something’s not quite right. Junkrat must feel it in the way Hog’s muscles tensed because he stops writhing.

“Anyways,” the omnic continues, “I’m Lucilius Rabota. But you can call me Luce. Ms. Turner told me your junk names already. Junkrat. Roadhog. Are those acceptable to call you by?”

“If you have to call us anything, yea,” Hog says slowly.

Luce nods amicably and starts collecting certain pieces of tech off his shelves and tables before bringing them to Rat’s bedside. It looks up at them expectantly, waiting for his patient to come back to his bed. Roadhog gives Rat a little push off the bed.

Throwing a quick glance back, Rat shuffles past Luce and scoots back into his bed. The bot explains what he’s doing as he’s doing it. Examining the wound, unwrapping it, measuring the area where the arm will connect. The pieces of tech are apparently there to check sizing and present options.

When Luce starts talking about the different kinds of arms they could install Rat with the petulant tolerance turns into genuine excitement. Rat’s finding out the details of a rocket launcher possibility when Hog interrupts, “Rat, if you wanna build again you’ll need fingers.”

“Oh. Roight, you mentioned a plain hand didn’t ya?” Rat looks slightly crestfallen as he asks.

Luce nods. “Yes. While not particularly lethal, I can install a hand with all the dexterity of your original limb with the added bonus of increased strength and more flexibility options.” He holds up his own hand and its spins on its wrist, which, while little more than a parlor trick, it gets Junkrat a little more excited again.

“While complications could occur, I think the replacement will go well. Your stump will be trimmed down a little of the traumatized flesh and we’ll start by attaching the connection. Once that has healed we’ll add the limb and do some rehabilitation. Then you should be good to go.”

“How long you expect all that’ll take,” Hog asks.

“Three weeks at most. With the advent of cell growth stims healing has never been faster.”

The two junkers exchange a glance then sit in silence, which Luce fills after a few beats. “I have prepared rooms for you two to stay in when not under medical examination. Given how energetic you seem now would you like to move there now?”

They both grunt in affirmation, so Luce frees them of their IVs and guides them back upstairs. Walking and especially stairs is a lot harder than Hog remembers it being, but his lungs hold out. He’s liking this purified air.

They go up and up again to the second floor where Luce has a pair of guest rooms made. The extravagance makes Rat quiet and pisses Hog off. Everything’s beautiful and clean, the beds are perfectly made and the sheets are something so soft Rat moans when he touches it and moans again as he falls face first into material, bundling his dirty body in it.

While Rat starts staining the sheets with his grime, Luce is trying to direct them to their private bathrooms. Hog takes one look at the small shower and shakes his head. “Too small.” Luce looks at him, then back at the shower, then back at Hog.

“Let me show you the master bathroom then.” They follow him down and Rat follows dragging his sheets with, still bundled up like E.T. with just his head and hand poking out.

“Better,” Hog snorts upon seeing the open style waterfall shower and enormous drop in whirlpool bath.

“I’ll leave you to it then.”

When he leaves Hog taps the touch controls on the shower and starts peeling off his civvies. Rat is still busy opening and shutting every single drawer and cabinet in the room and gently sampling bars of soap and lotion, gagging after each one but not learning his lesson enough to stop.

They really are like aliens on a different planet Hog thinks. This place makes Turner’s little apartment look like dog shit. To think he’d been envious of her kitchenette and gently used furniture. The disparity in wealth reminds Hog why he decided to live in the bush in the first place. Life would’ve been easier in the city, nursing was rough but it’s even rougher in a place as underserviced as the Outback. And then omnium was built and everything after. Hog hated how invisible everyone was just cuz they were poor. And meanwhile this inhuman–

His thoughts are interrupted by the feel of a hand on his side. It slides forward and caresses his gut while the rest of a certain someone presses up against his back. “Ye look so fucking good Roadie,” Rat growls out against his spine, nosing against the thick flesh of his back.

Breath hitching, Hog holds still while Rat continues to grope him. His hand moves in overtime to compensate for its missing partner, trying to feel as much of Hog as it can. Rat starts grinding against his ass, desperately trying to cultivate a little friction. Hog groans and presses back into him.

“I want ya so bad Hog,” he mutters against the wet skin of his neck. Reaching down, Rat teases the crease of Hog’s thigh, tracing up to the fold of his gut and back down again. He keeps rubbing everywhere, the underside of his gut, his thighs, his ass, everywhere but where Hog wants it most. “Do you want me? You want to fuck me until I can’t walk and make that bot bastard build me a new ass too?”

Turning around, Hog grabs a fistful of blonde hair and leverages Rat’s grinning head back so he can kiss him again. Rat moans and humps against the stomach he’s pressed tight to. This time Hog’s a little more forceful with his kissing, dragging his tongue heavily over the inside of his partner’s mouth, and it’s driving Rat wild, he can tell. That lone hand is scrabbling for purchase, as if Rat wants to climb Hog like a tree.

When they break for air, Rat’s skin is flushed red from exertion and the hot water cascading down them. He looks breathless and dazed, which makes Hog’s hard on throb. In a few seconds though, Rat cracks a devious smile. He dives for the pants he discarded just outside the shower and pulls out a tube of medical lubricating jelly.

“While ye were sleeping I filched a few things I thought might be handy,” he runs his tongue across his lips deliberately, eyeing Hog. He bites the cap off the tube and tries to squeeze some out on to his hand.

Before the idiot can waste it all, Hog takes it and smears some over his fingers. Looming over Rat, Hog spreads his ass with one hand and starts teasing his hole with his lubed fingers. Rat’s chattering against his clavicle, nipping skin and licking the water and days old sweat off him. Hog reciprocates, gently biting the shell of Rat’s ear, getting that squeal he remembered fondly out of him again. At the same time, he pushes his finger in and works in deeper as he keeps huffing in Rat’s ear. Junkrat squirms and moans.

“You remembered what I like, Hoggy, mark me up. Leave more bites–“ he breaks off as Hog obliges him, aggressively sucking the skin of Rat’s neck while forcing his finger in to the knuckle and curling it. Rat hangs on with his one hand as Hog keeps fingering him as deeply as possible. He pulls his hand out and adds more lube before going back to try and get two fingers in.

He barely gets both in and is starting to stretch Rat out before he starts making demands. “That’s good enough, come on Hog fuck me already, please–” Hog bites him proper and growls in his ear, “You’re so fucking impatient.” Rat moans way too loud at that and Hog pumps both fingers roughly. He spreads and scissors Rat’s asshole despite all Rat’s begging. Hog keeps at it longer than he would have if only because Rat sounds so good when he says “please”.

Rat’s legs are wobbly when Hog finally pulls his fingers out. He holds onto his partner and sets him on his knees on the stone bench at one end of the shower. He thinks he knows why now they put built this. Rat waggles his ass at Hog, biting his lip in what is supposed to be a sexy way, but is really just a crazy bastard way.

But god does Hog love crazy bastards. His cock is aching for attention at this point, so much so that just he can’t stop himself from jerking himself off a little when he finally grips it to line it up with Rat’s ass. Junkrat laughs at him, but finally shuts up as the head starts pressing against him.

Hog pushes in slowly, hissing at the heat and pressure starting to envelope him. “Fuck,” he pants, only halfway in and feeling like he was gonna melt. With a sudden movement, Rat pushes back onto him and forces Hog the rest of the way in with a long moan.

“I’ve been good Hoggy, come on and fuck me already,” he pants, starting to move again. Taking a firm grip on Junkrat’s hips Hog gives Rat a hard thrust that pulls another pathetic, lustful sound out of him. Shifting his gut a little, Hog then starts in. He doesn’t want to be rough because he’s not gonna last like this, but it’s how Rat wants it and the sounds that come out of him when Hog fucks him hard are everything.

In this tile lined room, Rat’s voice and heat dominates Hog’s senses. He’s so fucking loud and messy and so fucking tight and hot. Rat tries to reach down to jerk himself off but it throws their movements off, so Hog just lifts Rat up and wraps his arms around that long torso. Gripping him in a near bear hug, he slides Rat up and down his cock.

The change in position has rat babbling again, “Fuck Hog you’re so fucking big. You big bastard just lifting me like I’m nothing,” he’s jerking himself off wildly, head thrown back as Hog grunts into Rat’s shoulder blades and neck. Hog’s trying hard now to keep it together but he’s close and he doesn’t know if Rat is.

One thrust too many and he squeezes Rat close, sinking his cock in deep when he finishes with a curse. His cock twitches and throbs as he fills Rat up.

“Oh fuck, Hog,” he groans as the sound of wet slapping picks up and Rat gets off to the feeling of getting filled. He tenses up as he cums, making Hog groan weakly. After a few breaths, Hog slips out and sets Rat on the bench, then collapses on himself.

Panting side by side, rat catches his breath first and scoots over to kiss him. They’re soft, sloppy kisses, but Hog moans all the same, maybe even more so because they’re soft. “You’re so fucking good,” he mumbles, peppering a few more kisses across the scars on Hog’s face.

“You too,” Roadhog says, not sure of what else to say. All he can think of are three words that he’s not ready for yet. Once they recover, the pair haul themselves back upstairs to bed. Rat follows Hog into his room, which neither of them comment on, and wedges himself against Hog’s side to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 50k words in and the finally do the damn thing
> 
> thank you to AppleSap aka slingerapen for beta again


	38. That Tag

Following days blur for the pair. There’s not much to do but fuck, eat, and sleep. And as far as Rat’s concerned they had plenty of fucking to catch up based on how eager he was. Hog could barely keep up and furthermore he was finding Rat liked things rough, almost dangerously so.  
Choking, bruising grips, even being hit, it was all game. And apparently Luce took notice. The bot discretely approached Hog at one point, clearing a throat he didn’t have.

“Tomorrow I will trim Mr. Junkrat’s arm and equip the neurocomponents required to quip his prosthesis. In the time after that if you could refrain from excess stimulation with–“

Hog held up a hand to stop him. “Got it. And about that. I want to observe the op.”

His blank face lit up with a quick digitized expression of curiosity. “Don’t trust me to do the procedure correctly?”

Tilting his head up, Hog looked down at the omnic with disdain. “I don’t trust you. Period.”

There was a pause, but while Hog assumed it was an awkward one, Luce burst into subdued laughter. His face reshuffled into a smile and Roadhog imagined punching into his stupid screen until little pieces lodged into his knuckles.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else. Very well. I’ll get some scrubs that will fit you.” And just like that the bot walked off, heels clicking irritatingly.

Rat was more than pleased to know Hog would be watching over him as he went under. The sheer relief in his expression made Hog realize that all that fucking had been at least in part nervous energy. Something he could have worked off if he could build or run around a dump, but they were basically under house arrest until all this was done.

“Oo maybe it’s too late for this round, but do ye think he could make me donger bigger?” He bounced his bushy brows and grinned coyly up at his partner.

Hogs snorts. “You’re already big enough.” And cuffs him behind the ear playfully, which Rat takes as foreplay. In a flash he’s got his hand tangled in Roadhog’s long grey hair and has his lips against the scarred jawline. He must like the scars an awful lot, Hog thinks, given how much he touches them.

Letting Rat push him toward the bed, they flop back and there’s a loud sound as something gives under the full force drop of Hog’s weight, but that’s Luce’s problem not theirs.

“You like my prick, huh?” Rat asks breathily. He’s straddling his lap and grinding against the budding erection in Hog’s sweatpants. “Is it juuust right, piggy?”

“You’re mixing up things again. It’s the one with the bears that has ‘just right’ in it.” The look of irritation across Rat’s face makes him laugh as he works his hands up Rat’s thighs, squeezing and prodding.

“Whatever! Ya know what I mean. You want me to blow your fuckin’ house down or not?”

They both shake as Roadhog laughs. In three days Rat had actually only gotten worse at bedroom talk, but the blooming warmth in his chest every time Rat said some other full idiot phrase was aphrodisiac enough.

“You can blow me any day,” Hog says with a rare smirk. For a second Junkrat’s dazzled, but the next he’s screeching with laughter, collapsing on the soft stomach below him.

“I already do ye dag,” he says from between Hog’s tits, muffled as he motor boats them weakly. Hog chuckles and pets the thin body laying on him. They stay like that for a while, enjoying the feeling of holding each other.

The next day Luce collects them early in the morning and the surgery commences. Hog stands behind Luce’s left shoulder in pale blue scrubs feeling nostalgic for his old career. The omnic has no tools on his initial tray, only a pan for collecting biowaste and a syringe.

Soon Hog sees why, from his very fingertips the machine man produces pure hardlight surgical tools. Every cut and movement is perfect and precise in a way no human could ever replicate. And though a robot shouldn’t seem focused or tense or anything, Hog thinks if it could it would be sweating.

Pieces of Rat come away, thick scar tissue and chunks of bone. The nerves are exposed and using the syringe, Luce numbs them further. The second tray is summoned and now Luce installs nightmarishly small little pieces of metal. The process takes hours despite how efficient the bot is. Nerve after nerve is quipped with receptors before they finally close the stump up. Even fresh, it already looks better than the mess Hog’s badlands doctoring had been.

In the days afterwards they quickly find Rat can’t take a good number of standard pain meds. Paranoia or nausea or both and Hog never wants to have to wrangle another half naked vomiting Rat who’s trying to run away again. They settle on something weaker, but whatever pain rat is still in doesn’t last long as the healing stims accelerate the process to just a week of recuperation.

By the end the stump is still scarred, but neatly so. Rat complains that it looked more badass before, but Hog can tell he’s better off. And all complaints stop when Luce produces the prosthesis. It’s made of a mix of omnic parts, but it fits and the hand is sized right.  
The next two weeks is just rehab. Everyday Luce comes in with the arm and hooks it up and puts Rat through his paces. Hold this, squeeze this, lift, write, point– it’s endless and Junkrat hates it. But Hog keeps him on task every time the idiot starts to rant at the bot who would willing listen for hours if need be. But the last few days he let’s Rat just start wearing it full time.

“It’s pretty heavy, havin’ it on full time,” Rat comments lifting both arms. The move in perfect tandem, something Rat couldn’t manage two weeks ago. He flexes his hand and makes it spin on his wrist, giggling at the parlor trick.

Hog’s laying back in bed reading as Rat messes around. He grunts just to show he’s listening at least a little. He hears a shuffle as rat tugs his shirt off and admires himself in the mirror.

“Needs a paint job though. Orange I thinks. Make it matchy.” He strikes a pose, then another.

“Uhuh. Tell ‘im he’ll paint it for ya like how he did your leg.”

“Hate not doin’ it meself.” Hog just grunts again. Junkrat hums to himself, then says, “Oi, Hog! Look!”

Hog looks and sees Rat giving a sly grin as he rubs his nipples with his flesh and metal hands. “Bet I can give a fuckin’ wild purple nurple now ey?” He laughs and twists his nipples, then activates the parlor trick he’d been doing before. In a flash his hand spins and they both stand in complete silence as blood pours from the place where Rat’s nipple used to be.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ!” Hog yells as he leaps out of bed. He yanks out the bedside drawer to grab the leftover gauze they’d been using on Rat’s stump. He grabs it and looks up again only to see Rat looking at the bloody nipple in his metal hand.

He knows that look. He’s seen it so many times before. But before he can stop him Rat puts the nipple in his mouth and chews. Hog is screaming, but Rat is completely focused on chewing his nipple. Hog dives for him to pry his mouth open like a dog with a piece of chocolate, but Rat fucking swallows before he can get his hands on him.

“You just– did you just eat your fucking nipple?” Hog asks, heart hammering as blood pools on the ground at their feet.

“Fair dinkum, mate? When else was I gonna get the chance?” Rat asks, blinking up at Hog like that was the most obvious thing in the world. “Human pepperoni ain’t growin’ on cheese.”

Hog doesn’t know where to start with all the things Rat just said, but decides to opt for applying pressure to Rat’s nippleless chest before yelling his ear off about how they could have sewn it back on and that it’s trees not cheese and about being careful with his new arm and that he better keep that hand away from both their dicks.

Luce’s face remains completely blank as he applies healing gel and fresh gauze, but in the hallway Hog hears him start laughing wildly. All the while Rat’s acting like he did nothing wrong and talking about the flavor and texture of his nipple.

For a moment Hog closes his eyes and reminds himself that at the end of the day he does love this nipple eating bastard. Even if right now he’s contemplating ripping the other one off just to prove a point. What point? He doesn’t know, but maybe it would make Rat understand why people shouldn’t eat pieces of themselves.


	39. Bigger Than You Think

Rat kept touching the place where his nipple used to be, fascinated by the lightly scarred spot. It had healed in an hour with the gel and now the man was all the more lopsided.

But for all his missing parts, Rat was back in action. He’d come to master his new arm and was tinkering again. Hog and Luce tried to keep volatile substances and objects away from him since the last place he needed refining was the little, minute movements of his hand. The most important part of doing work as delicate as bomb building. Rat could care less if he ruined this stupid omnic’s kitchen or singed his brows off. The sheer exuberance of getting to build again was healing the trauma of his loss.

“I don’t regret it, ya know,” Rat said to Hog one night as he sat on the floor desigining. “I’d do it again. Even if I knew there was no way I’d get me arm back. I’d do it again.”

Hog had been looking at him with veiled remorse when Rat was chattering about how much loved his new arm. Rat could feel the guilt rippling off the big guy, palpable even though Hog looked stoic to the average observer. But Rat had always watched him closely, first out of paranoia, then curiosity, then with another kind of interest.

Looking away, Hog answered, “You shouldn’t have even been down there. My mistakes… have taken a lot from you.”

Silence fell over them as Rat just stared at him. Hog kept his gaze down and away, only looking up when Rat scooted over to him from his place on the floor. Papers covered in scrawls with new bomb designs rustled and his metal knee scraped carelessly on the polished wood. From between Hog’s legs, Rat looked up at him with a very un–Rat like expression. Something quiet and inscrutable that made Hog sweat.

His hands slide up Hog’s thighs slowly, coming up to finger the waist of his pants. Tracing the line between fabric and flesh Rat ducks his face under Hog’s gut, obscuring his face under the heavy fold. “I still remember yer promise ya know. I think about it every night,” he says, muffled by the flesh against his face. “I can’t wait to get out this stuffy bot’s house and see everythin’ with ya.”

Pulling Rat off, Hog slides off the edge of the bed and drops to the floor with him. Gripping the skinny man by the shoulders Hog pulls him in, pressing their faces together, forehead to forehead. “I’m gonna keep my promise. I’ll make up for everything.”

With big golden eyes, his scrawny partner stares at him with gentleness unnatural to a junker. “Ya dumb bastard there’s nothin’ ta make up for,” he huffs before drawing Hog in for a sloppy kiss. It starts off easy going, but in a few seconds it’s heated. Rat’s practically shivering under those big hands. Hog is just about to start tugging off Rat’s shorts when the kid says, “Let’s go. Let’s go now.”

“Go?” Hog repeats slowly, mind fogged up with lust. He blinks at Rat’s flushed face.

“Yea, I got me arm, I ain’t got it perfect but that’s nothin’ we need that omnic fuck for. Let’s dust him and roll out of here! Get our lives going again!” With each word his energy rises, frenetic with a vicious edge.

Hog mulls it over a moment and shrugs. A cruel smile spreads across his features. “Sounds good.”

Letting out a cackle of delight, Rat dives under the bed. Confused, Hog stands up and watches those skinny legs thrash until Rat crawls back out with a mess of bombs in hand. 

“I should’ve known we couldn’t stop you,” Roadhog grunts, dragging a hand down his face. Rat grins up at him, cradling the shoddy bombs like children. They’re all rougher than usual, some more than others. Evidence of the progression Junkrat had made at using his new arm.

“Just shove one o’ these in his craw and he’ll get blown to bits!” He laughs hideously and the sound warms Hog’s battered heart.

When they come downstairs, pockets full of explosives, Luce is sitting at the dining room table, back to them. Several hard light tablets are strewn before him. The scene is familiar to the junkers at this point. Hog takes the initiative. A body like Luce’s, lean and humanoid, is something he can easily handle. He can already imagine gripping that stupid bot’s LED face and squeezing it until it cracks.

But when he’s within a few feet, Luce’s voice stops him. “You really shouldn’t do what you’re thinking of doing.”

“Yeah?” Hog growls, taking another step forward, “Because you did us a favor?” The war sits heavy on his tongue, coloring the undertone of his words and Luce sits back in his chair, crossing his legs.

“No. Because we’re on the same side Mako.”

The sound of his name on that dirty omnic’s speakers makes his skin crawl and in two easy strides he has Luce by the collar. He yanks him out of his chair with a clatter.

“Humans and machines have never been on the same side,” Hog corrects, throwing the omnic down and delivering a brutal kick. There’s a loud crunch as the spike on Hog’s boot cleaves through Luce. Then he draws back and brings his foot down again on that blank face, cracking the screen. Hog’s blood is rushing in his ears and Rat’s screaming delightedly behind him. God this feels good.

The LED flickers to life and something new appears there. Instead of his usual playful emoticons, Luce displays a detailed, but stylized face. It looks up at Hog from under his boot. “I didn’t bring you two here out of the goodness of my heart. You’re here because I have work for you.”

“Christ just shut it!” Rat screams at him, running up and delivering a solid kick straight into Luce’s face like Hog was holding a football for him. The head rocks back sending shattered glass flying. The LED stutters but continues to glow. “Ye made a big mistake ye stupid pile o’ bolts. We’d never work for somethin’ like you.”

He’s winds up to kick again, but this time Luce catches his foot with his hand. He struggles to lift himself and continues, “You asked me once–“ his voice bugs out “–if I was making an omnium down in my lab–“ 

Those words go unfinished as Hog leans down and pulls Luce up. A bomb in hand, he rips open the shirt on Luce. Hog makes a familiar motion after that, forcing the bomb into the hole he made in the omnic’s chest. 

Rat dances around dropping more bombs over the floor as Hog lets Luce drop. The pair jog into the next room as the ticking sound picks up speed. Luce struggles against the floor as they go off. The building shakes with the explosion and the sound of electric discharge rings out as the hard light walls separating the dining room and living room cut out.

And then there’s quiet, interrupted only by Junkrat’s feverish panting. He’s twitching happily and Hog takes the moment to turn that energy on himself by kissing the little freak. As expected Rat just about leaps into Hog’s arms, already hard from the adrenaline. Pressing him to a wall, Hog groans pleasantly.

But their make out is interrupted again.

“You didn’t let me finish.”

Luce’s voice rings out from behind them in the hall, not the dining room. They turn their heads toward it. At the door to the basement stands another omnic, similar in build and identical in apparel. But it’s face isn’t shielded by a smooth glass mask. Instead it’s much like other omnics, human like with vague facial features etched in.

“I am trying to build a new omnium, Jamison.” Luce says the name with venom and Rat jerks in Hog’s arms like a lunging little dog.

“This isn’t my real body either. My real self is all around you.” He says as hard light walls formed throughout the hall, blocking them in with the omnic.

Junkrat looks around at the walls in confusion, but Hog already gets it. The house that they thought was just some smart house– it was Luce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic will be wrapping up soon! thanks everyone for hanging in there!!

**Author's Note:**

> Find me here for more Roadrat rants: https://twitter.com/snapefucker
> 
> A big thank you to my beta readers: 
> 
> https://twitter.com/BILLIONSBRO
> 
> https://twitter.com/slinger_apen


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